Barefoot
by Zaxaramas
Summary: Harry has the ability to learn the history of any object he touches, whether he wants to or not.
1. Chapter 1: Mr Dumbledore

**A/N: Just something that popped into my head with enough form to type it up. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Mr. Dumbledore

There is a soft knock at the door. This must be the Headmaster. I walk down the hall and open the front door. A tall, very old man stands before me, wearing what looks to be a long purple dress.

"Mr Dumbledore, I presume?" I hold out my hand.

"Ah, Yes. You must be Harry." He shakes my hand. His rings touch my fingers, a huge amount of information flows into me head.

This man is 114 years old, he's worn one of these rings since he was 8 and the other has been in his possession for only a few years less, but is older than even him. 400 years old, this one has been carried by many wizards, it produces a magical shield to stop spells.

"Please, come in." I step back and point him into the living room.

"Are your Aunt and Uncle not home?" He asks, sitting down on the sofa.

"After receiving your reply, I suggested that they spend the day elsewhere, they have an aversion to magical things. Speaking of which, that ring you wear, the shielding one, it's quite fantastic." He looks somewhat surprised as he idly touches the ring.

"Fascinating. I see that your letter was not unfounded. How is it that you knew to write to me? From what you told me, your Aunt wouldn't have given you my name." He frowns slightly, clearly not entirely happy with the situation.

"There is a box of my parents things in the loft, including their will, written by one Albus Dumbledore." I hand him the will from the coffee table, he reads it before watching me for a while.

"How much can you divine from this alone?" He asks.

This is the original copy." I say. "Someone not quite human handled it briefly, a Goblin, but I'm not quite sure what that means. His fingers were rough and he would have handled precious metals a lot."

"It would have only been in his possession for a short time." Dumbledore marvels. "His interaction with the will would have been mere minutes to make a copy."

"I felt every spot on it. Every millimetre I went over, looking for something, anything to connect me to my parents. A tiny spot on the back, something I couldn't see with my eyes, unlocked this piece of information. I think it may have been a piece of skin."

"After all these years?" He raises a white eyebrow. "The parchment has been made to be unaffected by time, perhaps this is why."

"I assume he is, or was, a banker of sorts. With the metals, it must be coins?" He nods as I speak. "The only other things in the box were photographs and, what could only be, two wands."

"You have not touched them?" He asks.

"One of the only pieces of advice that Petunia has ever given me. 'Be careful what you touch.' after she found out what I could do. I liked to look at antiques."

"I'm sure you could have a bright future in antiques dealing." He smiles.

"I had considered it, before I learned about magic. I didn't touch the wands, I wanted someone knowledgeable to be there. I once found a lamp that had been used by a man to beat his wife until she died." I pause for a moment. "It's a blessing and a curse."

"I am truly sorry you had to witness that at such a young age." He looks distraught. "Perhaps holding the wands may not be such a good idea?"

"I seem to react, or get a stronger reaction from, magical things. The ring you wear, the shield, I can tell you that it was exactly 400 years old when you knocked on the door. The woman that crafted and made it magical was named Annabelle Lovegood. She took four weeks to complete it and 17 people have used it. You purchased it from a non-magical man named George Alvis in Spain on your 17th birthday. A man whom you were close to named Gellert tried it on, but it didn't fit him correctly. Thousands of spells have splashed off of the shield through it's life, a few particularly nasty ones from Gellert actually." I laugh softly. "It's odd how those we hold closest can turn on us." His eyes seem to tear up a bit.

"How?"

Magic, I suspect." I smile. "You've been the longest owner of that ring, your life is imprinted onto it. Non-magicals don't leave such heavy or deep imprints, sometimes I can feel where a wizard has walked in the supermarket."

"Truly amazing." He blinks as I stand up.

"The wands are in the loft, I haven't moved them."

"Lead the way." He follows me to the stairs.

"Could I ask what happened to Gellert?" I say quietly. "I understand there were wars."

"He, as many before him, fell prey to the sickness of dark magic." He exhales. "It corrupts one's mind with promises of power. He did a great many things in his pursuit of power, many died to his hand and followers. Much like Voldemort, there will always be the avid worshippers."

"The loft is up there." I point to the hatch, eager to change the subject. "I can't actually reach it myself." I say sheepishly. "Do you mind?" He laughs softly.

"Not to worry." He reaches up and pulls the cord, extending the steps down for us. "Does you ability work on living things?" He asks as we climb.

"Not generally." I duck my head under a beam. "Non-magical humans don't work. I got something from you, but it felt as if you were holding back somehow, blocking me out." I pull the chain to turn the light on.

"Interesting." He stands be my side before the cardboard box. "I was the one to retrieve these possessions, the house was all but destroyed, this was all that remained."

"I know." I say simply.

I crouch down and retrieve the two cloth wrapped wands.

"Would you prefer your Mother's or Father's first?" Dumbledore asks.

"It's going to be unpleasant either way, You carry a wand all day, every day for years. Add to it the fact they are not mere objects, but part of a person, my parents too." I place both wands on the floor in front of me. "I think one experience will be more than enough." I lay my hands on the wands simultaneously and promptly pass out.

* * *

Bright lights. The sheet I lay on, whilst washed, has had 13 people die on it. The pillow is brand new. I sit up sharply. A hospital, full of … wizards.

"Harry." I quickly look to my left, Dumbledore is standing there. A friendly face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a hippogryph just ran over my head." I say without a seconds thought. "Whatever that means." Dumbledore chuckles.

"Young James would often say the same thing when he woke up on a hospital bed." He smiles.

"Speaking of the bed, the sheets hold horrible stories." His eyes widen slightly.

"I hadn't thought it would be an issue, forgive me." He says quickly. I wave him off.

"It's fine. Where are we?"

"After you touched the wands, you fell into a coma like state. I waited for 10 minutes before bringing you here, Saint Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." He says, waving an arm around the room.

"A nice ring to it." I laugh. I looked down at my hospital gown. It's … empty. "This things." I tug at the fabric. "Where did it come from?" It's like a void.

"The Healer conjured it as you arrived."

"Conjured?"

"A branch of magic called transfiguration. It allows the wizard to alter the form of one thing to another. Conjuration is a very complex practice of it. I had thought that you would react badly to a pre-existing gown, but it seems this one has unsettled you just as much."

"It's just a new experience." I say. "It's history starts mere minutes ago. Do we have to stay here?"

"Already forming a dislike to hospitals?" He smiles genially. "I thought it best to not give your name, although I do believe your scar may have gave that away somewhat."

"I suppose so." I idly rub the lightning bolt. "The wands. So many spells have passed through them. They've taken lives and defended them, the wonder and anger behind each one. Learning new spells and watching them unfold before their eyes."

"If I may ask, How much did you learn?"

"It's still processing, but the words are all there along with what the spells do. I can feel the kind of people they were." I smile sadly. "I only wish I'd had the chance to really know them." I shake my head. "Where are my clothes now? It'll be interesting to see where they've travelled without me."

"Just on the side table." He points over my shoulder. My hand touches my t-shirt and my clothes jump onto my body.

"That was unpleasant." I say, making Dumbledore laugh.

"It can be a bit jarring from time to time." He agrees. I lower my feet to the floor and stand up. I look down at my feet, they've given me shoes.

"I never did like shoes." I sit back down on the bed and remove my shoes and socks. "So much to learn through the soles of my feet." I set my bare feet on the floor and wriggle my toes. A huge building with some kind of lattice magical bubble around it. Thousands of lives have come to be and ended inside these halls. Death at every turn as well as life. Families ending and starting. Jokes played on friends, pimples to be removed, hair to be fixed or replaced.

"Harry." I turn to look at Dumbledore, he's frowning slightly.

"It's just a lot to take in." I stand up properly. "A magical building." I look around. "You said you could take me to get the items listed in my letter?"

"Ah, Yes. Diagon Alley. Perhaps some food first? I've been told you had exhausted yourself." My stomach grumbles as I nod. "I've heard that the tuna sandwiches here are worth the trip." He begins to lead me through the hallway.

Lots of moaning and groaning from the current visitors and patients. Animals running and flying around, not something I'd expect to see in a hospital. Wizards.

"Are some of these people?" I duck to avoid a black bird flying at my head.

"Perhaps you could tell me." Dumbledore says mischievously.

"I haven't touched them, that's unfair." I watch as a dog runs away from a man in a white robe. "That person was a man, but a dog too."

"A rare talent that we refer to as an 'Animagus'." He says as we enter the lift. "Between you and I, your father could turn into a stag." He says quietly. "One should register with the Ministry of course, but some slip through the net." He winks. I grin.

"The wands sort of … spoke to me." I say. "Normally I just learn about things, but these seemed …"

"Alive?" He suggests.

"Yeah." I nod. "They told me the story, rather than me just knowing it." I wade through the information. "You really do use them for everything, don't you?"

"Most things do require a wand. Cleaning, cooking sometimes. Certain people enjoy the mundane methods of doing things, others prefer to use magic for even the simplest of tasks. Why do you ask?" He looks down at me.

"Who is Peter Pettigrew?"


	2. Chapter 2: Diagonally

**A/N: I think the first chapter came off as a bit serious. Harry is still young, albeit matured through his contact with various old things. Enjoy.**

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Chapter 2: Diagonally

We sit in the hospital café with a tuna sandwich each.

"Peter was a dear friend of your parents." Dumbledore says, somewhat sadly. "Your parents were forced to go into hiding when Lord Voldemort began to gain more power. I assisted James and Lily in creating a protection over their property called a Fidelius charm. Some of the ingredients needed to perform to ritual were not easy to come by, even more so in a time of war, so I was able to procure them." He explains. "The Fidelius charm hides wherever it is cast upon, only those who know the 'secret' are able to find and gain access to the property."

"The secret?" I ask, taking another bite.

"Think of it as a password, without it you cannot even comprehend the location. The plan was that only the Potters and their 'Secret keeper' were to know the secret, the secret keeper being the only one able to pass on said secret."

"Sounds … secretive." I say, he smiles a little.

"Indeed." He nods. "Your parents entrusted the secret with a man named Sirius Black, to all the world it seemed for years that James and Sirius were inseparable. At the end of the war, Sirius was to simply visit James and Lily to tell them it was safe to come out of hiding."

"So what happened?" I ask.

"They placed their trust in the wrong person." He says gravely. "Sirius passed on the secret the Lord Voldemort, who stormed the village of Godric's Hollow and cut down James and Lily before he was destroyed by you."

"Destroyed?" I frown.

"Some, including myself, Do not believe that he is truly gone." He watches me as I steeple my finger, placing the tips against my lips.

"And Sirius Black? What became of him?"

"After Lord Voldemort was defeated, Sirius was reported to have been found Peter Pettigrew, who was attempting to detain him, but sadly Sirius killed Peter, along with 12 muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non-magicals humans, as you called them. Sirius was sent to Azkaban. The foulest place of Earth, the wardens are called Dementors. Something to look up in future." He says. "Peter was posthumously awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class. A medal of bravery." He supplies.

"And if I were to tell you that Sirius Black was not my parents secret keeper? What then?" I ask. Dumbledore stares at me.

"The wands." He says, withdrawing the couple. I take My Mother's wand from his hand.

"A big spell that stands out, is your Fidelius charm." I explain, running my fingers across the smooth wood. "The Keeper's name is part of the incantation, correct?"

"Yes."

"Peter Pettigrew was the keeper." I say quietly. "Somebody vomited on this table yesterday too."

"Are you absolutely sure?" He stresses. I nod.

Dumbledore draws out another wand, his own by the looks of it. He holds the tip to his temple and slowly draws out a wisp of silvery strands, depositing it in a small glass phial.

"That was weird." I comment.

"I have much thinking to do, perhaps a trip to Diagon Alley?" He offers with a smile.

"I thought you'd never ask." I grin.

* * *

"It's a stupid name for a pub." I say after being assaulted by grubby hands.. I thought Dumbledore was exaggerating. "And it smells funny." Nothing to dampen my mood like people scrambling to put their dirty mitts on me. "Somebody trod on my foot too." Dumbledore chuckles as we arrive at a brick wall.

"I did offer you shoes, but it was you that insisted on being bare foot." He reminds me.

"Do people still shake your hand wherever you go?"

"That depends on the company." He taps the bricks in a practised order causing them to fold into themselves, creating a rough archway. Marvellous to behold.

"At least it doesn't smell." I say, determined not to look too excited. He laughs and starts to walk.

I crane my neck and spin as we walk. People of all shapes, sizes, and colours darting between the shops and trying to get their voice heard above the others. Several owls perched upon the same lamppost. A man with two peg legs and a parrot on his shoulder. The cobblestones tell another story. Centuries of daily visitors walking around, yet they haven't worn at all. A handy thing this magic.

"I believe a trip to the bank is in order, nothing is for free after all." Dumbledore says, he still seems distracted.

"So the money, you obviously don't use pounds." I prompt.

"Ah. There are Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. 29 Knuts to a sickle and 17 Sickles to the galleon." He says, handing me a small golden key. "This is the key to your vaults. The Goblins of Gringotts are tricky to understand to most. They are fiercely noble to the bank and are a proud race. Many spend their entire lives studying the Goblins with hopes of understanding them better."

"That makes them sound like animals." I frown.

"And that is the hurdle that many will never jump. A simple conversation would save them years of research. You would do well to not insult them. Speak clearly and loudly."

"This key is the exact same age as me, right down to the second." I tell him as we cross the threshold of the bank. "Can't be a coincidence." I look up and have to stop myself from staring at the Goblins. They look like how I'd imagine Dumbledore's knee would look if it were green.

"They were once a warrior race, now they focus on banking." Dumbledore says casually. "Good morning." He greets the Goblin at the desk. "Young Harry here would like to visit his vault."

"And does 'Young Harry' have his key?" The Goblin asks in a gruff, mocking voice. I hold my key up, barely reaching the desk. Curse these tiny legs. He snatches it from me and scrutinizes it intensely. I look down and brush my foot on the metal tile at my feet. Many frustrated wizards have stood here, waiting. "Everything seems to be in order." He says reluctantly. "Griphook!" A younger looking Goblin rushes over. "Vault 687." He then says something that might register as another language if it didn't sound like sandpaper against another piece of sandpaper.

"This way." 'Griphook' says. We follow him to a rickety looking cart attached to an equally frail looking track. I sit down and feel the fear imprinted onto the cart.

"What-" I get cut off as the cart lurches forward. I can't help but scream a bit. That explain the fear. Dumbledore seems to be enjoying himself. We stop just as suddenly as we started, I climb dizzily onto the walkway.

"Key." He holds out his hand, I put the key in this hand, taking care not to touch him. He opens the large door.

"Cor." I say, staring at the money. "What am I looking at? What's the exchange rate to pounds?" I ask Griphook.

"I would have to consult my superiors for an accurate exchange rate." He says, not so helpfully.

"Just a rough figure, I won't hold Gringotts to it." I say.

"Approximately five British Pounds to the Galleon." He says. I look back at the vault.

"Bloody hell."

* * *

We surface a while later. I'm now the proud owner of my first wizard pouch, although Dumbledore insists on calling it a coin purse, I know a wizard pouch when I see one.

"Can I get my own wand now?" I ask the elderly man. "Will it be second hand? I don't really like the idea of that."

"Very rarely will a wand choose another witch or wizard. Yours will no doubt be brand new." He says. "But first we must get your uniform and other supplies." I look down at my list.

"Cauldrons?" I ask in disbelief. It's like the whole community is from a bad T.V show.

"Professor!" I look up, I've followed Dumbledore into a shop without realising. The woman looks over his robes. "You've not burnt another hole anywhere have you?" She steps around him.

"Not today my dear." He smiles and looks over at me.

"Another one for Hogwarts?" She asks, Dumbledore nods. "I don't think I've ever seen you escort one yourself." She says.

"I've made an exception for Mr. Potter." He says, patting my shoulder.

"Harry Potter?" She looks down at me for a while. "So much like your Father." She shakes her head slightly. "Arms up." She says sharply. I daren't disobey now that she's in what appears to be 'measuring-mode'.

The tape measure has been used 30 times today already and hundreds of times since it was made 17 years ago.

"13 galleons for the set, Where should I send them to?" She asks, looking between Dumbledore and I.

"4 Privet Drive in Surrey." Dumbledore tells her.

"...vet drive." She writes. "There we go." I fish out 13 gold coins for her. We exit the shop. There is chatter about us.

"The wand choosing is a somewhat ceremonious occasion." Dumbledore tells me. "Best experienced by ones self." He points out the wand shop. "I do like to visit old students from time to time, I shall collect your other items." I quickly make way to the wand shop. The bell tinkles faintly as I push the door open to the empty shop.

The excitement and wonder from the countless numbers that have come here for their wands are heavily imprinted onto the hard wood floors. The whole shop seems to be whispering with hidden magic.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I thought I'd be seeing you soon." An old man slides into view from behind a stack of long boxes.

"Err ... right." I say, barely holding in my excitement.

"I see that Albus was with you outside. A very tricky customer." He nods slowly. "Tricky indeed." He produces a wand from nowhere and holds it out to me.

As my fingers close around the wood, it rapidly heats up, I throw it back to him with a yelp.

"No, no. Not even close." He scratches his beard and vanishes again. He reappears with a new wand. "9 and a half inches, yew and a single hair from a unicorn's tail."

A very old wand, nearing 70 years and passing through hundreds of hands, but never quite finding it's match. It seems disappointed to have failed again.

"I think I've upset it." I say, handing him back the wand.

"Quite." He regards me curiously.

* * *

Six wands and a smashed vase later, he comes back with a dusty box. "Perhaps this one. 11 inches, holly and phoenix feather."

Just like my key, the wand is the same age as me, right down to the second. The tree was 47 years old when he cut from it. The phoenixes feather is a similar age to the tree, very vague somehow, I couldn't place it's exact age. Rather than talk, this wand sings to me.

"There it is." Ollivander smiles. "A perfect fit, curious. Very curious."

"The feather. It belongs to-"

"Albus Dumbledore's familiar." He nods with piercing eyes. "He gave two feathers, just two. The wand in which the other resides, it's brother in some respects, was the weapon that gave you that scar." He points to my forehead and fixes his eyes on my 'trademark'. Wonderful.


	3. Chapter 3: The Train

**A/N: Three chapter in one night. This doens't fortell the speed at which i'll be writing this. Enjoy.**

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Chapter 3: The Train

Dumbledore bought me an owl as a birthday present. A snow white owl named Hedwig, 9 months old. She likes me more than Dumbledore, but perhaps the strangest thing is that I can know this about a living thing.

"Have you ever tried to learn from an animal before?" Dumbledore asks me as I eat some ice cream, his treat.

"A few neighbourhood cats, they don't really work." I say. "Although the lady that lives opposite me, Mrs. Figg, her cats seem to be more than they seem, but I've never gotten close enough to touch one." I scratch Hedwig's head softly. "Oh." I look up at him. "There was a snake once, in the garden. He actually spoke, like … words, I didn't even touch him." He almost drops his lemon ice-cream.

"A snake you say?" He asks, Suddenly curious.

"I was going to flick it over the fence with a stick, but he said 'Hello Harry' which isn't something snakes ought to do in my opinion." I shrug. "I asked for his name, but he said he didn't have one."

"And when did this exchange happen?"

"I would've been about 8." I start to eat the ice-cream cone.

"A talent perhaps best kept to yourself. There is a stigma attached to those that can speak with snakes." He says.

"Snakes?" Some kind of Biblical thing against them perhaps. "Isn't one of the Hogwarts houses the snake house?" I ask sceptically. He smiles and nods.

"Slytherin. Their house animal is a serpent." He clearly sees how it looks.

"Voldemort could." I suddenly say. "Those people in the pub, when they assaulted me, I learnt a couple of things. I think it was at the front of their minds when they saw me. I think people are different to objects, as far as my ability is concerned. I didn't draw everything from their heads thankfully. I think I'm happy with not being able to do that."

"And the same doesn't hold true for muggles?"

"Nope." I shake my head. "If they were really happy or angry I think I'd feel it, but I've never held onto somebody in a situation like that." I shrug.

"This is a truly remarkable skill." He says. "One can't help but marvel at it's uses, there are many old and historically significant objects in Hogwarts."

"Like walking through a museum and only I can see the plaques." I smile.

* * *

"17?" I sigh in frustration. "I can't use magic outside of school until I'm 17?"

Dumbledore and I sat down in the Leaky Cauldron after the shopping was done. Ignoring his protests, I decided to rent a room here for the night and make my own way to the train tomorrow morning. He's taken the time to explain some things.

"Only in front of muggles." He says calmly. "In Diagon Alley or even here." He gestures to the pub. "You may use low level spells."

"Is there a law prohibiting me from living here?" I ask. "I wouldn't classify myself as an unskilled child, as much as I might look like one, doesn't relative intelligence count for anything in this world?"

"Is Privet Drive such an unfitting home for you?" He asks.

"They are foul people." I say firmly. "They'd be just as foul if I didn't have this ability. I've managed to frighten them enough with it so they leave me alone."

"A discussion for another time, we have the whole school year to decide." He says, handing me a golden ticket. "Do not lose your ticket. The platform is located between platforms 9 and 10. Is there anything else you wish to know before I leave?"

"You haven't forgotten what I said about Peter Pettigrew, have you?"

"I will investigate what this new information may mean tonight." He says.

"Old information more like." I say under my breath as he walks through the fireplace.

* * *

"Platform 9 and ¾." I mutter to myself. "Ridiculous." I might've learnt a lot from walking around Diagon Alley and my parents wands, but I'm still surprised by the apparent lack of logic in everything.

"... Every year, packed with muggles." A woman says loudly from nearby. My prayers have been answered in the form of a slightly overweight, ginger haired woman. "Hurry, we'll be late!" The gaggle of her children trail on behind her, pushing their trolleys along. I opted for a trunk with wheels and a back pack. Hedwig can apparently find Hogwarts by herself. I follow the ginger family to a stop. "Percy first." She says.

The eldest looking one, Percy, pushes his cart towards the pillar in the centre of the station, I wait for the inevitable crash, but nothing happens.

"Put some shoes on, boy." A random passer by says to me. Shoes are overrated.

I wander over to the pillar once their family had passed through. It looks completely normal, although I suppose it's supposed to. I walk forward with my left hand extended, just in case. My worries are unfounded as I find myself stepping onto a platform full of people, magical people. The floor tells a thousand tales and the bright red train dominates the room, steam flowing around it. I leave my trunk in the seemingly capable hands of the luggage man. A bell chimes and sets everyone into a frenzy to get onto the train, eager not to be left behind, I step onto the nearest carriage.

The train hums with magic and it's very own history alongside the centuries of children getting on and off.

"Watch yourself." Somebody says, carrying a cat carrier over my head, I duck to give them a bit more space. "Cheers." They say, not sparing me a glance as they chase down their friend.

I enter an empty compartment and sit down, regretting the decision immediately. I can only hope that somebody washes these seats often. That and the previous users were alone, not something that should be done on a train. I close my eyes and reflect on my gatherings.

* * *

The door slides open after a few people peer inside over the next two hours.

"People are saying that Harry Potter is on the train, is it true?" An air of arrogance about him. I open my eyes. Three boys, two heavy set and standing in a bodyguard stance as if the centrepiece is a mafia boss, maybe he is?

"In the flesh." I hold out my left hand, forcing him to use his left hand to shake mine, rings can show a great deal about a person.

He's been wearing this since he was 8 years old, an heir ring. Old families get them. So many lessons drilled into him, stressing the importance of manners. The Malfoy family. Dumbledore had a similar ring on his hand.

"You must be a Malfoy." I say politely. He frowns.

"How did you know?"

"You look like you Father?" I offer. He smiles, seemingly satisfied.

"Draco Malfoy." He confirms. "These are Crabbe and Goyle." He jerks a thumb over one shoulder. Maybe he doesn't even know which is which.

"Uh, Take a seat?" I offer. He sits down opposite me.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" He asks. "I'll be in Slytherin, I'm sure. Can you imagine being sorted into Hufflepuff? I think I'd die of embarrassment." He laughs at his own joke. "Nobody really knows where they'll go, I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Where are your shoes?" The door slides open again. A girl with puffy hair.

"Has anyone seen a toad, a boy named Neville has lost one." She asks impatiently.

"A toad?" I ask. Poor guy, an owl is much cooler. I look on the floor. "Nope, nothing. I can help you look if you want, four eyes are better than two, or six." I tap my glasses.

"Why would you help look for a toad?" Malfoy asks with a scrunched up nose/

"A scavenger hunt." I shrug. "Beats sitting here for a few more hours."I'm Harry by the way." I say to the girl.

"Hermione Granger." She says neatly.

"This is Draco." I point. "These are Crabbe and Goyle, I'm not really sure which is which." She smiles and leads us down to the next compartment.

"Has anyone seen a toad, a boy named Neville has lost one." She repeats herself.

"Does it take five of you to find one toad?" A dark skinned boy asks, keeping a grip on his spider.

"6 if you count Neville himself." I point out. "I like to think of it as a treasure hunt, the treasure being a toad."

"Hardly a prize." One of the redheaded twins says.

"Alas, the hunt continues." I say. "Nice spider." The boy looks at his empty hands. It managed to escape, I slide the door shut.

"'Alas the hunt continues'?" Draco questions. "You're finding this far too fun."

I run my hands across the wooden banister to learn it's secrets.

"Check the cupboard at the end of this carriage." I suggest.

They do so and find -

"Trevor!" A pudgy boy bustles past us and picks up the toad. This must be Neville. I run my hand along the inside of the cupboard. Some students locked their friend inside here a few years ago … and a cat.

"Harry?" I turn around to Draco. "You spaced out there for a moment."

"You should change into your uniforms." Hermione says. "I'm going to talk to the driver." She enters the next carriage."

"Your parents were in Slytherin I assume." I say to Draco as we walk back to my compartment.

"Of course. Everyone knows it's the best house." He says smugly. He really does love the sound of his own voice. I think it would drive me mad to be put in the same house as him. "We'll see you at the sorting." He says, bidding me farewell. I make sure to shake Goyle and Crabbe's hands too, similar rings, the lessons and lots of practice handshakes. I begrudgingly put my shoes on. Of all the oddities wizards have, I'd wished that no shoes would be accepted. The train whistles loudly, signalling our arrival.

The platform fills with students quickly, all chattering excitedly, both old and new.

"Firs' years!" A giant man bellows. "Firs' years over 'ere!" He calls out again.

I wander over to the growing mass of students, all of whom look nervous, no matter how much they try not to. Some of the older students walk by us, openly staring and pointing at me, Not because of my dashing looks sadly.

"This way!" We follow the giant man to a collection of boats. "In yeh get, no more'an four to a boat!" I climb into the closest boat and touch the sides. Hundreds of first years have travelled in this boat alone. It barely seems like it's retained it's ability to float. Neville and two twin girls climb into the boat with me. "Forward!" The giant man waves his hand, in his own personal boat, and all the others start to move.

It doesn't take long for Hogwarts to slide into view, or rather we slide into view of it. A giant and magnificent castle, tall towers and huge walls. No doubt that a fair dab of magic has been used to make it last for so long. The 'ooh's and 'aah's commence.

"Off ya get." The giant man says as we hit the shore. "Careful not the fall in!" He laughs. We follow him towards the giant door, he turns and does a quick head count, no doubt making sure that none of use fell prey to the lake. He turns back to the door and raises his hand, knocking three heavy blows.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't think that Harry and Draco will be friends. I'd like a new name for the story though, this one doesn't quite fit. Enjoy.**


	4. Chapter 4: Sorting

Chapter 4: Sorting

"Harry? What are you doing?" Hermione watches me as I hop around, removing my shoes as we wait for an answer.

"I don't think I really have an answer for you." I say whilst subtly depositing my shoes and socks into the fountain.

The giant doors slowly open to reveal an elderly woman dressed in fine green robes, the whole look is imposing and topped off with a pointed hat.

"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall." The giant man says dutifully.

"Thank you, Hagrid." She turns to look at us with intense scrutiny. "Follow me, please." An order more than a request. We move forward, trying to keep up with her lengthy gait. The castle is just as amazing inside as it is out. Each step holds a thousand words as we walk to reach another set of giant doors.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," She says after letting us pool together "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses." She casts her eyes over us again.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." She pauses for another moment. "Wait here, I shall be back to collect you shortly." She slips through the huge doors.

"Potter, Where are your shoes?" I turn to Draco, who is frowning at my feet. My name earns a couple of whispers.

"I've always found shoes to be quite, shall we say, restricting?" I say distractedly. Every stone in the castle oozes magical secrets, desperately trying to tell me what they've seen. The sieges against the castle, great creatures trying to tear down it's walls. The centuries of students and teachers passing through the hallways, friendships forming and ending at every turn. Jokes played on house mates, giggling girls rushing by the charming young men. Misty forms slowly solidify around myself and the students. A rotund man laughing merrily with young students wearing robes not dissimilar to my own, nobody else seems the least bit worried by the aberrations. The man suddenly stops as his face contorts, I can only watch in bated horror as he falls backwards, thrashing on the floor for a moment. He stills for a second before his body raises up, looking straight at me.

"New students! About to be sorted I suppose?" This time the other first years jump in fright. The fat man looks at me oddly before shaking his head. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know." I distantly hear Hermione calling them ghosts as Professor McGonagall shoos them away. They both take a glance at me as they retreat.

"The sorting ceremony is about to begin. Please form a line." She waits patiently as he form a single file line, I somehow get pushed to the front. She looks down at my feet with disdain, I smile cheekily as the doors are pushed open.

The last remnants of the conversations die out as I lead out nervous party into the hall, a great one. I vaguely note that the ceiling seems to be missing as I look at the other students. There is an odd sort of … humming going on. Not the normal kind of humming though, the kind I generally associate with my power. It's like the air muttering. The hat beside Professor McGonagall starts to sing.

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
 _But don't judge on what you see,_  
 _I'll eat myself if you can find_  
 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_  
 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
 _So try me on and I will tell you_  
 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
 _Where they are just and loyal,_  
 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
 _if you've a ready mind,_  
 _Where those of wit and learning,_  
 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
 _You'll make your real friends,_  
 _Those cunning folks use any means_  
 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
 _And don't get in a flap!_  
 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The hall breaks into a light applause. A singing hat – A very dirty and very old singing hat.

"When I call your name you put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." McGonagall somehow manages to say this with a straight face. "Abbot, Hannah." A suppress a wince. 'Abbot' – Forever doomed to be the first name called. A red-headed girl rushes past me, her face doing it's best to match the colour of her hair. She quickly sits on the stool and the hat drops over her eyes. The line behind me forms into a huddle.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouts, the hall bursts into applause. I stop clapping as I realise none of the other first years are. McGonagall retrieves the hat and points to the right table, Hannah quickly sits down as the clapping subsides. The fat Hufflepuff ghost stands at the end of the table, watching the proceedings with a merry smile.

"Bones, Susan." A girl breaks out of our bunch and hurries towards the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hats proclaims after barely a moment of sitting on her head. Susan scuttles away, seating herself between Hannah and an older girl with bright pink hair.

"Boot, Terry." Terry nervously walks steps forward. This is a hideously inefficient way of sorting.

"RAVENCLAW!" The hall claps as Terry sits down as the newest Ravenclaw, shaking hands with his house-mates.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy." Is called up next. I try and the unsettling feeling from watching the fat ghost die. Perhaps this is another evolution of my power, I had a similar sinking feeling in my stomach when I first started to differentiate magical and non-magical and the most recent addition of feeling the emotions behind objects such as the cart under Gringotts. Millicent Bulstrode is sorted into Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchey, Justin." Bloody wizards. Why not use more hats? Even 2 hats would be quicker. The hat finally decides upon Hufflepuff for him.

"Granger, Hermione."

"Good luck." I mutter as she excitedly hurries past me. I suppose luck doesn't really factor into it, we're all bound for a house.

"Oi, mate." A seated student whispers, I look down to see two identical ginger boys, a few years older, grinning at me.

"Where're your shoes?" The other asks. I look down at me feet and fake an exclamation.

"Cor, somebody's nicked my shoes!" I whisper back. They stifle their laughter.

I cast my eyes over the staff table. Old and young, very short and very tall. The giant man, Hagrid, has somehow found his seat before the sorting, Probably snuck through a secret bookshelf. I suppress a snort at the thought of Hagrid trying to sneak anywhere.

I'm not sure which house I would fall into. I don't really see myself as brave, perhaps Hufflepuff then? A more friendly house. Ravenclaw would run parallel with my pursuit of knowledge, but is that my defining trait? It's more that I absorb knowledge, quite literally. Even Slytherin might find a place for me, Dumbledore did say that it was the serpent house, maybe I could find a decent conversation there? I certainly won't be drawing one from -

"Malfoy, Draco." McGonagall snatches the words from my head.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouts instantly, seemingly eager to removes itself from his head. There aren't many of us left now. The twins start to flick pieces of paper at a ginger boy behind me, their brother by the looks of things.

"Potter, Harry."There we go.

" _Harry Potter?" "Did she say Potter?" "Over there, with the messy hair!" "Where are his shoes?"_

I quickly walk forward, trying to make this archaic sorting method go as quickly as possible, I'm sure the others are hungry. The stool radiates fear and anxiety as I sit on it. The hat is dropped on my head.

" _Gah!_ " It shouts in my head, I have to stop myself from crying out too.

" _You-_ " I start.

" _I-_ "

" _How-"_

" _What the devil?"_

" _I'm just-"_

" _Gah!"_ It shouts again. " _Never in all my years have I ever had a student try and sort me!"_

" _Sort you?"_ I say, or think. " _You're looking inside me – reading me."_

" _It's how I sort."_ The hat huffs. " _You're the anomaly here, I see this power of yours."_ It says.

" _So you can do what I do?"_ I try to ignore the flurry of information that flows into my head. Created in 1000AD by Rowena Ravenclaw because they wanted a better way of sorting students. She accomplished the whole task in 39 days.

" _That's much more than I can do. I merely see the memories of whosoever I am placed upon. What you do is much, much more."_ It says mysteriously. " _I see that you are disappointed, my apologies."_

" _Oh, it's not all bad."_ I give a mental shrug. " _Although I can see that you've been vomited into 3 times, so forgive me for not wanting you on my head for much longer."_

" _Yes, quite why one would go for the hat, I don't know."_ It sighs. " _Well then. Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage – a sharp mind too. Oh ho ho, the thirst to prove yourself. Wise beyond your years, very much so. You would do well in any house, but-"_

" _You've got a sword inside you."_ I interrupt. " _That's err … Not a common thing for hats. Godric's sword – Godric's LOST sword. I'll erm keep that to myself."_

" _I see not much is hidden from you, Young Potter."_ The hat laughs in it's gravelly voice. "But it'd better be..."

* * *

 **A/N: Cliffhanger! I've not actually decided on which house Harry will be in yet.**

 **A bit of a short chapter, but i say a short one is better than none. Enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5: Ravenclaw!

Chapter 5: Ravenclaw!

"RAVENCLAW!"

The hall bursts into a light applause as McGonagall lifts the hat from my head. A few shocked faces line the Gryffindor table, apparently they assumed I would join their ranks due to my parents having been there. A very loyal perspective, worthy of Hufflepuff if I do say so myself. I turn to catch a glimpse of Dumbledore, the old man is smiling away merrily, clapping politely. He looks to have expected this, I suppose he's seen hundreds of students sorted in his time here. McGonagall gently pushes me towards the Ravenclaw table. I quickly walk towards them, finding myself eager to be out of the spotlight, or perhaps just not in the centre of it all. I sit beside a blonde girl with a shiny 'P' badge pinned to her blue trimmed robe. The rest of the first years are soon sorted. The ginger boy, Ronald Weasley, is sorted into Gryffindor, alongside his brothers – all three of them.

The bench I sit on was hand crafted by Godric Gryffindor. Odd that he didn't use magic for the task, perhaps the relevant spells hadn't been developed back then, or perhaps he just enjoyed woodworking. Dumbledore stands up as the last student, Blaise Zabini, is sorted.

"Welcome, Welcome, Students new and old, to another year at Hogwarts. However, I shall postpone my announcements for now – Tuck in!" With a flourish of his hands, the silver platters before us.

The excited chatter begins as Dumbledore sits down. Catching up with friends over the summer, Conversations not quite finished on the train and, unfortunately, people staring at me. I was ok with the Dursley's stance of 'Ignore the freak', this isn't going to be fun, maybe they'll get bored of me soon enough. I turn my attention back to the masses of food. If they serve this up every night, I might actually be able to reverse some of the malnourishment.

"So you're Harry, right?" A boy opposite me asks.

"Harry Potter, Humbly yours." I say, picking up my fork. He smiles.

"I'm Michael." I shake his hand. "Third year."

An ethereal version of my fork separates itself from the real thing. A girl, not a real one, grabs the fork and plunges it into a boys leg – Charlie Weasley's leg. The girl, Nymphadora Tonks, walks over to the Hufflepuff table, sitting down inside the real life Nymphadora Tonks. She's still here and very much alive. Maybe-

"Harry?" My eyes snap back to Michael. "You sorta spaced out of us there."

"Sorry, it was the fork's fault." I spear a potato.

"Err, right." He looks at his friend and shrugs. "We asked you where your shoes were."

"They're in the fountain outside the entrance." I say with a non-committal shrug.

"Who threw your shoes in the fountain?" He asks, now frowning.

"I did, of course. Plausible deniability." I tell him. "If anyone asks me to put my shoes on, I can simply tell them that I don't have any shoes." I finished with a smile.

"So you have an aversion to wearing shoes?" He asks slowly. Wizards.

"I had to walk through a solid wall to ride a magical train here. I think not wearing shoes is a much more normal thing to do, or not do."

"Well, when you put it like that it makes much more sense." He returns to his food looking a bit fizzled.

I look up at the staff table again. It's all quite surreal, being in a magical castle. Whatever this new ghosting is looks promising.

I load chicken onto my plate whilst inspecting the cutlery. It seems that Hogwarts' chefs are 'House Elves'; There are at least 100 judging by each of these forks, I would imagine there are more to care for the rest of the castle. Perhaps they also work the kitchens? It's more cost efficient to pay employees, even if they are House Elves, to do more than one job I'd guess. I have vague reflections from the spoons that they have pale skin and large, bat-like ears with eyes to match. Despite their odd appearances, they are excellent at cooking. I thank whatever deity that blocked my ability to trace food back to it's origins; I don't want to know what part of the animal I'm eating.

I casually listen to the conversations as I eat, quite content to not be bothered whilst discovering the secrets that the dining hall holds. The floor beneath the table isn't all that interesting. Lots of shoes and dropped food, my bare feet are glad that the floors are cleaned. I look over at Nymphadora every so often, if only to make sure she isn't about to keel over like the fat ghost.

I make a mental note to read books about 'Harry Potter' as I hear my name being mentioned further down the table. Dumbledore's condensed version of my rise to fame wasn't big on details. The hall suddenly quietens and shuffles as one to face, the now standing, Dumbledore.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few announcements to make. First off, The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, a few of our older students would do well to remember that too." He looks around the hall with a smile. Part of me wants to heed the advice, but it sounds awesome. Maybe at a later date. "And please give a warm welcome to Professor Quirrel, who has returned this year to fill our Defence Against the Dark Arts post." I join the others in applause. Professor Quirrel looks to be frightened by the clapping. "Furthermore, the Quidditch trials will take place on the second week of term and the third floor is off limits to those who do not wish to die a most painful death."I add 'Go to the third floor' to my mental list. His eyes meet mine briefly as he sweeps the room before moving on again. "And a few parting words before bed: Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak." I don't even … What? Nobody moves for a second. Ah, to hell with it, I start clapping. It was a good speech. This seems to wake up a few people, they join the applause. It's like a blind man leading a blind man. "First years, please follow the prefects to your common rooms, and I bid you a good night."

The hall begins to move at the dismissal; the higher years stroll out of the door. I turn to the girl beside me, the Prefect badge pinned to her chest. "Over here, first years." She says loudly. A couple of relieved faces push towards us through the crowd. I snatch up a couple of rolls from a nearby platter for the road. Years under the Dursley's roof has taught me to eat when I can because I don't know when I'll be eating again. "Everyone here?" I turn to out little group. Nine of us including myself. Three other guys, five girls. One of the girls, Padma Patil, has a twin sorted into Gryffindor. Odd in my mind. "Ok, Let's go." She leads us towards the door, the other prefect walks beside us. "My name is Penelope Clearwater. I am in my fifth year and I will be guiding you through your first year, and subsequent years if need be." We abruptly stop in the middle of a staircase. The moving portraits watch on, apparently intrigued by us. This is going to take some getting used to. The staircase suddenly lurches sideways and for a brief moment I think we are about to plunge to our deaths. "Mind the stairs, they like to move." I exchange a look with the blonde boy beside me, he seems to be thinking the same thing; It would have been nice to have been warned beforehand. "Quickly, before they move." We begin to move again, Penelope only a couple of steps ahead of us. I wouldn't personally wear a skirt in a school full of stairs, but to each their own. It's only a short walk to a large painting of a raven.

"Our tower is guarded by this painting." The male prefect explains. "It asks a simple riddle which must be answered to gain entrance to the common room." That's … wow. "Our main security is secrecy, so don't tell anybody where this is." He turns to the painting.

"A new bunch." The raven looks at us. "Let's see if they're up to snuff!" It caws. "You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I'm dead, what am I?" I can only hope that the other houses are more secure.

"An onion." I say. "But if I were a remorseful man, What would you be?" I ask the painting.

"A dead man." It chirps. "Very good, you may enter." The painting swings forward, revealing a passageway. I run my fingertips across the back of the portrait as we pass through. Painted by a Malcolm Andres 703 years ago, there was a statue here before then. Thousands of of footsteps have steps upon these stone this year alone.

"And here we are." The prefect says.

A large but cosy room. Plush sofas and armchairs fill the room, blue and bronze colours and trimmings. The carpet is warm and the fireplace draws the whole room together. The walls are covered in bookshelves. I'm definitely in the right house.

The thing is with books is that at some point in their history, they had to have been written or printed. Every penstroke, every dot used to build each printed letter, imprinted onto the book for one such as me to lay a hand upon and learn it's secrets. This is, by far, my favourite application of my power.

"The boys dorms are down the stairs and the girls up the stairs." Penelope tells us, pointing to the spiral staircase across the room. "Curfew begins at 9pm, You must be back here before then or face severe punishment. Breakfast starts at 7am sharp, Keith and I will be here in the common room at half past seven to escort you downstairs as well as to and from your lessons for a while. All of the times will be on your timetables; Professor Flitwick will distribute them tomorrow at breakfast."

I run my fingers over the nearest sofa and immediately draw them back. This isn't even a private place to be intimate, the only slight consolation is that they wait until after hours. I think I'll stick to the armchairs thanks.

"We'll show you to your rooms now." We split into two groups. Penelope leads the girls up the stairs. I'm sure I'll change my opinion of skirts and stairs in due time. We follow Keith down the stairs, stopping at the first door we come across. "The first floor is for you guys, second for second years and so on. I'm on the fifth floor if you need me, first door on the left." He pushes the door open, a short hallways sporting 4 doors. "Your names are above the doors. They'll be pretty empty right now, you can decorate them or whatever. So, Corner on the right here; Boot of the left." He points to the doors. "Goldstein and Potter back there." Sure enough, a bronze plaque engraved with 'H. Potter' sits above the door. "I'll swing by at seven to get you up if you're not already awake." He waves and heads back out of the door and down the stairs.

I lock my door behind me and the room lights up with small candles. A big four poster bed, a large desk and a bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Another door sits adjacent to my bed. It's easily the side of the living room of Privet Drive. I chuck my robe on my bed and cross over to my desk. _My desk._ I smile at the thought. A single book wrapped in brown paper sits atop the desk with a small note tucked into the string binding.

"Harry Potter: A history." I read. I unfold the note, dropping the book back onto the table.

 _'A slightly less bias telling of your story._

 _I hope you read it with a pinch of salt._

 _A.P.W.B.D'_

Dumbledore bought me a book. Hedwig and a book. More presents in the past few days than I've received in my entire life. He even bought the brown parcel paper specifically for this purpose from Diagon Alley. I've heard that it's the thought that counts when buying a gift, this is definitely the case when I can see an objects history with a single touch.

I hear tapping on the window and turn to see Hedwig perched outside the single panel of glass. I lift the latch, locking it again once she is inside. I scratch her head as she waits on my bedpost.

* * *

 **AN: Sorry for the delay, I've been a bit busy.**

 **I've got a lot of great ideas for this story, i hope i can do them justice. Enjoy!**


	6. Chapter 6: Humble Beginnings

Chapter 6: Humble beginnings

I awaken to Hedwig's soft hooting. My room is dimly lit, I judge it to be about 6:30.

"Morning Hedwig." I slur; She hoots in acknowledgement.

I sit up from what was, by far, the best night of sleep I've ever had. The bed sheets were made by house elves yesterday morning, the bed frame itself was created by magic: conjured by Dumbledore. I'll have to get to conjured things, they feel … wrong, too young.

I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and stretch my arms out wide, blearily walking to the en suite. I can't help but wonder at the size of the room. Do all students have such large rooms? How can the castle fit everything in it? Surely magic has it's limits, doesn't it?

The en suite consists of a shower, toilet, sink, and a wide mirror. Small, but it makes me feel like royalty. The castle seems to change itself to make the correct number of rooms. Not conjured as I can feel it's age, but like rearranged space. I return to my room to find my uniform from yesterday washed and folded on my now made up bed. I lay my hand on the shirt to update myself on it's little adventure. Bless you Linter the house elf.

I unlock my window and let Hedwig out after copious amounts of head scratching. I smile as I watch her take off.

The book Dumbledore got me answered some questions. The tale of 'The Potters' going into hiding during the war to avoid the Dark Lord, even in books they daren't write his name, and how the nefarious 'Sirius Black' sold them out to You-Know-Who before killing Peter Pettigrew and 12 muggles with a single spell. It occasionally strayed to the more fantastical version, portraying Sirius as a loyal Deatheater, Voldemort's followers, but for the most part is stuck to the facts. There are a few missing pieces to the puzzle, but I know the story – _My_ story.

I open my bedroom door once I'm fully clothed, I had made an attempt to tame my hair but it seems to be an impossible task. I walk up the spiral stairs at the end of the corridor, almost being run down by a girl whom I can only describe as angry.

"Watch where you're going!" She snaps at me before storming off.

"Sorry about Marietta." I look up to a new face, looking apologetic. "She's not a morning person." Welsh maybe? Possibly of Chinese descent if I know my humans, which I don't.

"And I've learnt that the hard way." I say. She smiles, looking relieved, and races after 'Marietta'. I shake my head and follow on into the common room. Not many people are currently here, either they're still asleep or already at breakfast. No sign of Penelope, but Keith is sitting in an armchair. "Morning Keith." I sit on the chair opposite, testing my elbows on my knees. His eyes flick up to me.

"Morning Potter." He closes the book and flicks his wand. '7:01AM' floats out of the tip. "Right, I'll see if the other three are up." That must be the Tempus charm, my parents cast it hundreds of times. I really should go to the library as soon as possible to learn what these spells do. The trouble with 'learning' books is that they have so much stuff in them, I can't do more than one book at a time. I've learnt my Standard book of spells and the magical theory one already. I've not touched my other books at all, the headaches from learning too much at once are horrible. The spellbook had a warning at the beginning telling readers to not attempt the spells without supervision, it usually contains the first spells many people learn after all.

"Good morning Harry." Penelope approaches with the first year girls. "Settle in ok?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Keith's gone to get the others."

"We forgot to mention it last night, but boys can't go into the girls dormitories." She tells me. "We're not exactly sure what happens if they do, nobody has tried it in this house, but Professor Flitwick assures us it isn't pretty." That's actually a good idea.

"I'll bear that in mind, the same holds true for the boys dorm?" She shakes her head.

"No, girls can go into the boys dorms and rooms." She explains. It seems that wizards are even worse than regular people when it comes to gender equality. Keith returns with the others.

"Ready to go?" He asks; A round of nods. "Alright."

We leave the common room and file onto a staircase before it moves. The castle seems to be humming again, as if it's happy to have students again. The portraits wave to us and greet Penelope and Keith. Our party merges with the other students as we approach the Great Hall. I ignore the pointing and whispers as we seat at the Ravenclaw table. Do they expect me to do something? Bounce a ball on my nose?

All the components of the very familiar Full English Breakfast are lain out on the platters. Vernon loved anything that could clog his arteries quickly. The prefects from the sixth year start to hand out the timetables, handing the last of the stack to Keith.

"Right … Su li." He hands the girl her timetable. "Corner … Goldstein … Potter ..." I accept the parchment. Professor Flitwick used a Gemino charm to duplicate this from the original. It's taken on some of the properties of the original and somehow distorted them. An animated quill signed my name at the top. The information on the quill is much more concrete. A simple grey coloured feather that Professor Flitwick used a charm to cut and heat the nib to work as a quill. Without contact with the actual quill I can't be sure how it writes. I refocus on the timetable.

Charms straight after breakfast with Professor Flitwick himself. Herbology after lunch and broom practice before dinner. It quite helpfully points out meal times and curfew times. The curfew ends at 6AM. I'd often toyed with the idea of running, not just running away from Dudley, but for fitness. Healthy body; healthy mind? That explains a lot about Vernon actually.

A sudden burst of activity signals the arrival of a flock of owls. Mostly newspapers, but some letters too, from family no doubt. I spot Hedwig entering through the window, Easily distinguishable by her colour. No other snowy white owls in sight. She flies down and lands on the table in front of me, ducking her head to meet my hand. More scratches. She's apologetic for not bringing me anything. I smile as she nips my fingers playfully.

"Find anything good to eat?" I ask her. An image of a light brown mouse by some pumpkins flickers into my head. "A mouse? Did you catch it?"

"Prek! Prek!" She answers happily. Thoughts of the mouses mangled body enters my head, I grimace ever so slightly.

"Definitely caught it." I softly stroke her head as she treats me to some amazing aerial views of the castle.

"Are you talking to your owl?" Michael from yesterday asks.

"Lots of people are." I nod to the other tables.

"Yeah, but their owls don't look like they're talking back." Michael eyes Hedwig wearily.

"Chk chk chk!"

"She says owls can't talk." I relay the message to him.

"Err, right." He beckons somebody further down the table. This is clearly Michael's brother, or an incredible coincidence. "Gavin, look at this." 'Gavin' slumps down on the bench beside his brother.

"You've trained an owl?" He leans forward. "Urgh, I wish Daisy would stand still long enough to tie a letter to her leg."

"Still no luck?" Michael asks. "Not even for the 'Master of owls'?" He smiles cheekily.

"Piss off." Gavin grumbles. "That book wasn't even worth _half_ what I paid for it. What's your secret?" He asks me.

"Lots of attention." Hedwig rubs her head on my knuckles. "Honestly I've got no idea." She nips at my fingers before taking flight again.

"Harry." I look over to Keith, standing with the others. "Taking you to charms now." I nod.

"Catch ya later, Mikey." Gavin ruffles Michael's hair, much to his irritation.

* * *

I think having charms as your first lesson is the best way to start a life as a wizard. Something as simple as levitating a feather is trivial to older people, a charm that was used by James and Lily many times, but to me it's my first spell. Exhilarating and breathtaking – Magical. I'm also proud that I was one of the few able to cast the spell correctly. Professor Flitwick is incredibly enthusiastic, giving more praise to those that were trying their best rather than those who actually did it. He explained to Anthony and I that learning a new spell is it's own reward. This didn't stop him from awarding us 5 points each of course. Keith and Penelope await us outside the classroom with the Hufflepuff prefects. Penelope does a quick head count before nodding happily.

"Did any of you get it today?" She asks as she leads us through the corridors.

"Me and Harry got it." Anthony says happily. "Professor Flitwick gave us 5 points each."

"I think I got mine to push off the edge of the desk." Lisa says. "Although it might have just been some wind." She deflates a bit.

"It was your first lesson after all." Penelope says. "You can't expect your first spell to work right."

"Professor Flitwick closed the windows at the start." I tell Lisa. "So it wasn't the wind." She perks up slightly.

The tricky part of navigating Hogwarts seems to be finding the central stairwell. Once you are in the 'core', it becomes a lot easier. Getting back to the Great Hall is only a matter of going down a lot of stairs. On this particular trip, I've learnt of a resident of Hogwarts named 'Peeves'; A Poltergeist that enjoys tormenting students if the water balloons and dung bombs are anything to go by.

The hall is already full of students as we arrive. I start to think of the spells from my parents' wands. When I used Wingardium Leviosa, it felt familiar; as if I'd cast it before. A recasting from memory rather than learning a new spell. The spells range from a simple cleaning charm to blasting hexes capable of killing. I'll have to spend some time to sort through it all. All the information is sitting in my head, but unexamined.

James' wand, in his earlier years, was Peeves incarnate. He loved jokes, jinxing people or setting up grand pranks, especially on his friends and … Snape. My eyes flick up to the potions Professor. I'd heard he wasn't a pleasant man at dinner yesterday. Could it have something to do with the torment he went through at the hands of my Dad? Hundreds of spells subtly sent to disrupt him. He wouldn't hold a grudge surely.

"Herbology with Gryffindor next." Penelope reads from her copy our the first year timetable. "The greenhouses are outside, so it's a bit of a walk; We'll leave early."

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter! This one falls a bit short from my normal length, but i'd prefer a short one than cutting the story off in the middle of something important.**

 **It's starting to build up steam now, hopefully it will start to get interesting soon.**

 **I'm going for a Michael Gambon Dumbledore for this, i think it will be fun. Enjoy!**


	7. Chapter 7: Brooms and Lemon Drops

**A/N: I know that it should be sherbet lemons, but i think lemon drops sound better. One thing that the US books did better.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Brooms and Lemon Drops

I pair with Hermione in Herbology. Isobel MacDougal had apparently been friends with Michael Corner since before Hogwarts, so they paired together. There is an odd number of each house, so I elected to be odd with Hermione. Once our earmuffs are securely in place, we set about re-potting mandrakes, which whine loudly as they are removed from the soil. Quite _why_ we are helping them grow bigger, I've no idea.

The earmuffs themselves are a work of genius. They cut out the sound from the mandrakes, most of it anyway, but allow for voices to pass through uninhibited. They are charmed in large quantities by minimum wage factory workers who don't really want to be there. My particular pair were created by a man who was ecstatic to be working there. A werewolf by the name of Lance Carlson. From what I understand, it's very difficult for werewolves to find work.

"How was your first lesson?" I ask Hermione, who launches into an explanation of how to perform a transfiguration. Each and every step she took to perform the spell and what sounds to be the exact speech Professor McGonagall would have given. All this whilst trying to re-pot a mandrake.

Further down the table, Charlie Weasley's brother, Ronald, is talking to Seamus Finnegan about me. "Did you see the scar?" He says, glancing my way. I turn my attention back to the mandrakes.

"Not the best looking things, are they?" I grin and wave my mandrake near Hermione's head. I was given the fat one of the bunch.

"Just re-pot it so it stops crying." She wrinkles her nose as she smiles. I drop the wrinkled plant-baby into the pot, covering it's head with soil.

"Looking forward to broom practice?" I ask, she shakes her head. "Afraid of heights?" she nods. I don't really know enough of anything to try and lay her fears to rest. James' had attempted to tweak one of his brooms in an attempt to make it go faster. Somehow I don't think this knowledge will help Hermione.

* * *

"Hold your right hand over your broom and firmly say 'up'." Madam Hooch watches us like a hawk.

"Up!" We call out. The rickety broom beside me jumps into my hand.

55 years old. Beech wood for the handle, the twigs are all from separate trees, they spent a few years sitting in a bucket inside a broom factory in Cornwall. The broom, whilst well put together at the start, is battered and broken from years of abuse. I'm not _entirely_ confident in it's ability to remain airborne any longer. The handle has apparently been enchanted to float, but more of a 'floating in water' than 'hovering in air' sort of thing; Buoyant sounds right. The twigs act as the propulsion, pushing the vehicle through the air. Upon closer inspection of the twigs, they appear to be covered in a reddish-brown smoke.

The rest of the students are having different degrees of success. The whole year group has assembled for the lesson, the upper years that have family in the group are allowed to watch. Hermione's broom took a couple of 'ups' to obey her, she looks nervous. I sweep my eyes across the Slytherin group and lock eyes with a very smug looking Draco Malfoy. I smile at him and wave my broom. He smiles and looks away – far too proper to be seen smiling in public.

Madam Hooch walks down the parting between the lines, showing everyone how to correctly mount and grip their brooms. Whilst in wait, I step over my broom and hold it the same way 347 students have before me. Draco's smirk vanishes when Madam Hooch explains that he's been doing it wrong for years. I can't find it in myself to feel sorry for him.

"Now. When I say so, I want you all to give a firm kick off the ground, hover in the air for a moment before leaning forward and touching down again." I see that Neville is looking incredibly worried, but apparently unaware of the burgundy smoke surrounding his broom. "On the sound of my whistle!" Neville suddenly leaps up into the air. "Get back down here!" Madam Hooch shouts, but Neville's broom doesn't do anything of the sort. He corkscrews into the air and rockets straight towards the castle. I wince as he smacks into the wall quickly before crumpling onto the floor. In a truly school children manner, we rush over to our fallen peer and form a circle around him as Madam Hooch kneels beside him, helping him to his feet. "Don't move. Don't even _think_ about flying. If I see one broom in the air, you'll be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say 'Quidditch'!" With one final glare, she guides Neville, who is holding his arm, towards the castle.

I crouch next to where he landed and retrieve the strange, ornate sphere he'd dropped. A Remembrall. The smoke turns red when the holder has forgotten something. Brand new, purchased for 5 galleons by Augusta Longbottom; Neville received it this morning. It's filled with smoke from burning cherry wood when they build them.

"That's Neville's Remembrall." A boy from Gryffindor says, Dean I think. I see Draco reaching his hand out towards it and take a step away from him. I'm now painfully aware that everyone is looking at me like I'm about to slay Voldemort with the bloody Remembrall. I hand it to Dean.

"Make sure he gets it back, yeah?" I say, he nods, accepting the orb.

Ignoring the stares, I pick up the even more battered broom that Neville had been using. It's dead. Where as the other brooms have their unhealthy brown haze, this one is dead. The handle splintered as soon as Neville crashed into the castle. Better the broom dies that Neville.

* * *

After a mind numbing history lesson taught by a _ghost_ , Penelope and Keith collect us to escort us to dinner. I've sort of gotten the hang of where things are now, Keith told me that maps aren't issued because classrooms move around a lot. I'm still not sure if he meant the teachers reassign their rooms, or if the rooms move themselves.

We had potions with Hufflepuff this morning. It very quickly became clear that Professor Snape doesn't like me at all. Glaring at me from the very start, firing questions at me and being down right foul. "Clearly fame isn't everything." He'd said. As infuriating as it was, I kept my mouth shut so to not lose further points for Ravenclaw.

I break from my thoughts as we arrive in the Great Hall. Keith makes a joke about shepherding sheep before sitting down. He intrigues me. Whereas Penelope is very up beat, rule abiding and enthusiastic as a prefect, Keith is not. Although that isn't to say he isn't a good prefect, as he is, he just has a very different style. More down to Earth.

After the first broom practice, I was asked to return the brooms to a broom cupboard, I found out what the students use the cupboards for in great detail unfortunately. I sit down a few feet to Anthony's left. We've not spoken much outside of 'Good morning;. Hedwig lands on the bench beside me, nuzzling her head again me until I stroke the feathers on her back. She hops onto my bag so that she can see over the table at the hall.

"Michael." He looks up from his food. "Why does everyone stick to the house tables?" I ask, he cranes his neck to look at the hall behind him.

"Uh … I suppose you see the members of your house every day." He turns back to me. "So your friends are composed of your own house generally rather than the others?" He says uncertainly. "There isn't really a rule against sitting at other tables. Unless you're in Slytherin." He adds with a smile.

"Mister Potter." Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. I turn to face Snape.

"Professor?" He glares at me.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you in his office." He drawls.

"Thank you, sir." Hedwig steps down to the bench, I shoulder my bag and stand up beside the potions master.

"Well?" He asks after staring at me for a while.

"Could you show me the way to the Headmaster's office, please?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Could you not find your own way?" He sneers at me. I slowly exhale. There are many hexes that he is intimately familiar with being hit by that I'd love to throw in his face right now.

"No, sir." I say, staring defiantly at him, He smirks victoriously. Should I? "It is only my third day after all." The smile drops from his face as I retort. That felt good.

"15 points for your cheek." He strides towards the door. "10 further points for your lack of shoes."

I allow myself a small smile as I trail behind him. Worth it.

* * *

"Thank your for escorting Mister Potter." Dumbledore says to Snape. He was waiting for us in front of a large stone gargoyle at the end of a long corridor. Snape nods and whisks himself away, cloak billowing behind him. Arse. "Lemon drop." The gargoyle turns sideways to reveal a set of stairs. "Did you have enough to eat? I had asked Professor Snape to wait." I snort.

"As if he'd listen." I say as we arrive in his office. I blot out the amazing sight to continue my speech. "Do you know what he did? He degraded me in the middle of the Great Hall. Who even does that? It would be bad enough him doing it in a lesson, which he did, or in private, but in front of the whole school? Despicable and unprofessional." I lower myself into the armchair in front of the large desk as Dumbledore sits opposite whilst I ignore everything the office and chair are telling me. "I understand that he hated James, I've seen and felt every single spell he threw through his wand. I get it, he was a bully, but that doesn't excuse him transferring those grudges onto me at all. What have I done to him? I've been polite, I've paid attention in the one lesson he's taught me for. I was even actively trying to not tread on his toes because of the animosity. I can pull the memories from my head for you. I've seen Lily do it a hundred times." I recline into the soft chair, sighing. "I just … don't understand."

"Lemon drop?" He offers after taking one himself. I smile and accept the lemony sweet.

"Thank you." We sit in silence, enjoying the fizz. "Your office is really cool by the way. The rug, 213 year old Egyptian wool. Brought in by Armando Dippet. Very nice."

"I don't think anybody has ever called my office 'cool'. Thank you." He smiles, looking over his many trinkets. "Rest assured that I will be having a serious discussion with Severus in regards to his treatment of you." He says seriously. "Your speech has raised a fair few questions."

"Please, ask away." I gesture for him to continue.

"But firstly I will choose to deal with Severus rather than dwell on him here."

"I've had enough of him for one day." I nod.

"Quite. Now, you refer to your parents as Lily and James, May I ask why?"

"It's to do with how I receive information from things." I gesture to his dish of lemon drops. "May I?"

"Please do." I help myself to another.

"When I touch things, I get names. Who has touched is, who made it, anyone who it has ever belonged to. This usually excludes middle names for whatever reason. Wands are no different. James Charlus Potter. Lily Marie Potter nee Evans. To me, they are Lily and James, taken from the world far too young. They are still very much my parents, but their names are their names." I shake my head. "That probably doesn't help much. To me, you are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I want to call you Albus."

"I believe I understand." He nods slowly. "You may call me Albus if you wish." He smiles. "You mentioned that you knew of the spells James used on Severus?"

"I know the wand's life. Everything from sitting in it's box in Ollivander's to brushing his teeth and tormenting Snape."

"Snape?"

"More polite than Snivellus." I grin cheekily.

"And the same holds true for Lily?" I nod. "You said you could perform the memory extraction charm."

"When I first cast the levitation charm, it held a certain familiarity to me. The kindn that only comes with practice." I explain.

"And you can replicate any of these spells?"

"Maybe. I was worked up when I said that." I hike my knees up onto the chair. "Thank you for the book, it prepared me for a lot of the staring."

"You are quite welcome." He smiles. "Am I to assume you can absorb books?" I smile.

"Yeah." It's awesome. "Although if a Gemino charm is used to create the copy, I don't think it would work. The book you gave me was duplicated with an animated quill."

"A much more common way of doing so, you will be happy to know." He smiles. "How have you found your times here at Hogwarts?"

"Amazing for the most part. I feel like I've aged 50 years since I set foot on the train. I'm fairly certain I've started puberty and the food is far, far better than I'm used to." I list, he nods slowly as he absorbs it.

"Do you wish to speak with the school nurse about..."

"No. Nope." I shake my head vigorously. "I've seen what young people do behind closed doors." I shudder. "I don't think I want to know how the whole 'broom closet thing started." A woman in one of the painting lets out an unladylike snort before covering her mouth with her hand.

"How has your ability effected your time here?"

"There is so much here." I say. "Everything I touch is saturated with memories and magic. I've started to see ghosts too. Not the normal kind mind you, but an ethereal visage of an objects history. A ghost will rise out of a fork or a door and play out something from the history."

"This happens so your eyes can see it rather than in your head?" I nod.

"It's also shown me the demise of the fat friar and Sir Nicolas from Gryffindor. They seem to know that I'm seeing them differently, they look at me strangley."

"Interesting." He says quietly.

"I've started to see a smoky aura around some things too. Brooms were the first." I say.

"Smoke?" He leans forward onto his desk. "Could you describe it? Smoke like that from a fire? Or a more foggy, liquid smoke?"

"More of a glowing aesthetic I'd say."

"Are there any objects in this room with the smoke?" He presses. I turn to look at his shelves.

"I have to look for it." I pick up another lemon drop and walk to the nearest shelf. "Like trying to spot something from the corner of your eye." I crouch to see the bottom shelf. Strange orbs and spindly instruments that whirr and hiss, performing some function. I straighten up and look on the eye-level shelf. "I think it's magic." I say louder so he can hear. "Neville's broom was when I picked it up. The buoyancy enchantment had been completely destroyed and without the handle to tie it all together, the twigs lost their power and now it's just fire wood." I lift up a thing silver arm on a small device, it detaches with a soft pop. I quickly lay it on the shelf, hoping that Albus didn't notice. It's just an overly complex clock, a gift from Professor McGonagall for Albus' 100th birthday. "Ah, this one." I set my eyes on an intricately cared golden cube floating above a disc of wood. A light grey aura surrounds the cube. Albus stands beside me as I reach out for the cube.

"It musn't be touched." He warns, I dip my finger into the smoke.,

"A monitor." I say. "Specifically for the anti-broom ward around Hogwarts." The smoke doesn't interact wit h my finger at all. "Can you explain what a ward is exactly?"

"A permanent charm or enchantment encompassing an area is probably the best way to describe them to you." He says after a moments thought.

"And this monitors the one that stops broom invaders." I pluck the cube from the air. "It can be picked up." I smirk at his shocked face. "You just didn't think it could." I hold the cube in front of my eyes. "Carved in 647AD by a Goblin named Ironjaw. Later given to Godric Gryffindor as a peace treaty between a Goblin clan, who's name I cannot pronounce, and Godric. It sat in this office for 600 years before it was enchanted by Iyan Tiber to monitor the anti-broom ward." I drop the cube into his hand.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm attempting to build this odd relationship between Dumbledore and Harry. Offering a lemon drop after his rant to diffuse the tension for instance.**

 **And i've now typed up all of my paper notes, so the next chapter might be delayed a wee bit. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!**


	8. Chapter 8: A colourful run in

Chapter 8: A colourful run in

Now three weeks into Hogwarts, things with Snape have improved. Well, perhaps improved isn't the right word, but he sticks to glaring at me rather than insulting me. I haven't seen Dumbledore in his office since my first week, but I'll be sure to thank him.

Between lessons and trips to the library, I have been working on my ability to see the magic some around things. I now have little doubt it is anything other than seeing magic. Sadly, I've not found any references to such a skill in all the books I have checked so far. I even tried to find a book about the Sorting Hat, hoping it might shed some light on what I'm working towards. Most of my efforts to further my ability have resulted in intense headaches, but I have managed to strip back the fog to look more like glowing instead of smoke.

"Harry!" Hermione whispers harshly. History of Magic, the bane of my life. There is probably something poetic about my hatred of the subject given my ability. I roll my head in my arms to face left, looking up at Hermione's frowning face.

"Hermione!" I whisper back with the same urgency, causing her to rolls her eyes.

"Wake. Up." She sayings, returning her attention to Professor Binns.

"If I were asleep, I assure you this conversation would be far less thrilling." I raise myself away from the desk and recline against the back of my chair. Binns drones on about some sort of Goblin rights reformation as I look around the room, it seems I'm not the only one to rest my eyes in this lesson. Cuthbert Binns might just be the single most boring being in existence.

Hermione drops her quill off the table, it coils down and lands by my foot. "Even your quill is falling asleep." I smile as I reach down to retrieve it. As my fingers brush the feather, I get a first hand account of Hermione's notes for this lesson and the letter she wrote to her parents this morning – replied to. It's her birthday. I pass the quill back to her. "Happy Birthday." I suppress the urge to laugh.

"How did you..."

"We all have our methods." I say mysteriously.

"That doesn't even mean anything." She huffs.

"Please put your books away, the lesson is now over." Binns drawls. I'm surprised he even noticed. I pull my bag onto my shoulder and make for the door. Keith and Penelope await us at the end of the corridor. Rather than going with them, I feel like doing some exploring – the kind that involves the third floor.

"Not coming with us, Potter?" Keith asks; I shake my head.

"I'm going to scenic route." I gesture down the corridor leading away from the stairs.

"Suit yourself." Penelope says. I watch as they walk up the stairs. I've _definitely_ changed my opinion of the skirts and stairs combo. Whilst they are dropping their bags back at the tower, I'll be finding out what 'painful death' awaits me on the third floor.

I quickly head down the corridor, taking a short flight of stairs at the end. After following the spiral down completely, I arrive at a door and open it onto the third floor – it's not even locked.

The corridor has no lighting at all, the only window along the right-hand side doesn't help matters at all. " _Lumos._ " I whisper. A wide beam of light pours from the tip of my wand, making it act like a torch.

Suits of armour line the right side of the hallway. A couple of doors open to reveal incredibly dusty and mouldy classrooms. Hardly impending death. I close the second room and carry on down the passageway. I'm kind of expecting a dinosaur to jump out or something. Do wizards have dinosaurs? I shake the thought from my head and continue on.

"Mraaw!" I jump into the air at the sudden noise. I whip my wand around to face … a cat.

"Christ! You stupid cat." I bend over, panting heavily in an attempt to recover from my heart attack.

"Mreow?" I cocks it's head.

"What do you want?" I glare at it. "You're Filch's cat." My blood turns to ice.

"Mrs Norris?" A gravelly voice calls out. Not good. I quickly turn and dash around a corner, running straight into something – someone.

"Bwah!" The stranger and I tumble onto the floor. "Ow! Ge' off me!" I try and untangle myself whilst relighting my wand, pointing it at the girl. Nymphadora Tonks.

"Tonks?"

"Who are you?"

"Harry." I say. "We have to go." I start walking, lighting up the corridor .

"Woah, slow down. What are you doing here?"

"Something similar to you I'd guess. Filch is com-"

"Filch?!" She grabs my hand. "Why didn't you start with that? Come on!" She pulls me into a run. My wand flails as I try and keep passage lit. How can she even see? "In here." We stop at a door, she points her wand at it as I lean. The door houses a giant dog.

"Tonks, not this room." I plead.

"What? It's fine, just need to unlock it." She yanks on the handle.

"There's a-"

"I'll find you. Shouldn't be up here!" Filch's voice echoes down the hallway. Filch or the dog?

"Alohomora." I flick my wand at the door, the lock clicks and Tonks pulls it open and we quickly get inside. I close the door as quietly as possible. "Tonks." I whisper.

"Wha-" I put my hand over her mouth to stop the shout and point my lit wand at the sleeping dog.

" _Not. A. Sound._ " I whisper in her ear, removing my hand. Her hair flushes black; Her clothes confirm that she is a metamorphagus as I'd heard.

"Nothing here Mrs Norris, Let's get you something to eat." Filch coos outside. His footsteps get quieter as Tonks and I stare at the giant, three-headed dog with bated breath. I idly notice a magical harp as I turn around.

"Tonks." She looks at me as I reach for the handle and slowly open the door, allowing us to slip out. I can't help but smile as I slump against the wall beside the door, trying to get my breathing under control. I open my eyes and look at Tonks, currently sitting beside a suit of armour on the opposite side of the corridor. She is smiling widely.

* * *

"That was brilliant!" Tonks says once we are clear of the third floor.

"We didn't get eaten by a giant dog and we didn't get caught by Filch. I'd say that's a job well done." She shoots a smile at me.

"Never thought I'd run into Harry Potter breaking the rules." She laughs, her whole body moves as she talks. Possibly the most lively person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"Quite literally ran into me too." I add.

"Hey! You were the one that was running!" She pouts. "What were you doing on the third floor anyway? Didn't you hear Dumbledore's announcement at the start of term?"

"Of course I did, why else do you think I'd be there?" She adopts a knowing smiles. "Where are we going?" I've just been following her where ever she decides to turn, seemingly at random.

"A shortcut to …" She pushes open a door and we exit a broom cupboard. I turn back and see that it just looks like a broom cupboard.

"How the hell?" I turn back to a smirking Tonks. "And to everyone else it looks like we've just exited a broom cupboard stupid smiles." She laughs and her smile widens.

"I knew you Ravenclaws were quick on the uptake." She links her arm with mine. A wand holster? Leather from a cow. Aptly named – it holsters one's wand. James had a much more expensive one made from the hide of a Norwegian Ridgeback. An Auror.

"Planning on being an Auror?" I ask casually.

"What?" She frowns.

"Your wand holster." I tap the inside of her wrist. "Nobody else has one."

"You're very observant, aren't you? And you're right, I'm going to enroll in the academy next year." She says happily. We stop in the entrance of the Great Hall. Everyone is here for dinner and they turn to stare at us, arms linked. I'm sure this is going to be the beginning of a very strange relationship.

* * *

After cooling down from that round of gawking, I am approached by Professor Flitwick.

"Good evening Mister Potter." He greets.

"It is, isn't it?" I smile as Hedwig hoots with amusement.

"Quite." He nods, smiling. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, good. Professor Dumbledore would like to meet with you in his office. Do you wish for me to escort you?" I shake my head. "Very well. The password is 'Ice mice'."

"Ok, thank you Professor." I scoop my bag up and watch Hedwig hop up to the table. "I'll see you in a bit." She nips at my thumb before taking flight. As ever, people watch me as I leave the hall. Whilst I still get lost occasionally, I do remember the way. I wouldn't mind getting my hands on James' map. I have small glimpses of it's creation, but he wasn't the one to do most of the charmwork. His role was testing and creating the pass phrases. 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' and 'Mischief managed" to clear it. It's likely that it's long since been destroyed.

The rest of the journey to Albus' office is uneventful.

"Ice mice." I say to the gargoyle, feeling silly when it doesn't respond. Eventually it decides to turn sideways, revealing the stairs to me. I readjust my back and walk up to the door atop the stairs. It's dancing with small wisps of magic which congeal around my hand when I knock four times. A muffled 'Come in' passes through a moment later. A small blue pulse flickers away from the handle. If I were to guess, I'd say it just unlocked itself. I open the door. "Hello." I say lamely as I close the door behind me, stepping onto the carpet.

"Take a seat." He gestures to the armchair. My next step tells me that his previous visitor has only just left.

"Meetings with the Minster of Magic?" I ask. The echo of Cornelius Fudge shimmers into view before my eyes. "Although you cannot see him, the Minister's echo is right here." This has Albus stepping behind me.

"Where?" I look over my shoulder to see his intrigued face.

"It looks like he's talking, it's all a bit fuzzy." I watch as the Minister walks towards the large desk, waving his hands as he talks. "An argument? I don't have sound." I step beside the ornate chair and lay my hand on the arm, causing an echo of Albus to coalesce in the vacated spot. "You tried to calm him?" Echo-Albus stands up and the two of them walk towards a large cabinet in an alcove of his office. Their heads dip through the glass as they continue to speak. I reach out and lay my hand of the cabinet. A pensieve lies within, used to view memories. Albus created the cabinet himself, a very intricate conjuration that took two days of work to shape completely. The pensieve itself is behind the locked door, so I can't find out much about it. "Your pensieve. You showed him a memory?" The echoes vanish and I turn to the real Albus.

"You have an amazing gift." He tells me. I snort

"I wasn't thinking that when I was perusing a charity shop." I scrunch up my face. "Scarred me for life, I'm telling ya." He chuckles as he returns to his ancient chair. A gift from a friend of his – Claus Sal. I drop my bag beside my chair and sit down.

"How are you today?" He asks me.

"Good." I nod. "I made a friend in shorter time than I thought possible." Near death experiences might have that effect.

"That is good news. Professor Flitwick has expressed concern over your lack of social activity." He watches me closely.

"He did?"

"Filius takes the welfare of his students very seriously." He explains as I lean back in the chair. "Does this concern you?" I shake my head.

"No. It's just … odd to have people looking out for me after all these years." I shrug. "I read a book about wards and associated Arithmancy." I look over at the golden cube, once again floating above it's stand. "I don't think it's the most efficient monitor ever, but if it works then it works."

"I shall take your word for it." He smiles. "It has yet to fail me." He turns his attention back to me. "Madam Pince has told me you spend much of your free time in the library."

"I am in Ravenclaw." I smirk. "I like to touch a couple of books and put on my Herbology gloves so I can read at a normal pace."

"Ingenious." He nods and turns to watch Hedwig fly in through his open window, she circles the room and lands on the arm of my chair.

"I thought you'd gotten lost." She looks as me as if I'm insane. She could never get lost. "You're far too clever for that, right." She nips at my fingers affectionately. "I think most of my 'Social activity' is with Hedwig."

"I can see the two of you share a special bond." He smiles with his ever present twinkle in his eyes.

"Any news on Sirius?" I ask, returning my attention to Hedwig.

"He is a delicate subject amongst many. For some, his incarceration marked the end of the war, along with the tragic death of your parents. I have yet to make any headway." He finishes somewhat sadly.

"Overturning what has already been a decade of prison time in Azkaban isn't something that can be done in a few days, I understand." I exhale slowly. "Is there a chance that he will be ok? I've read that a few months have turned people insane, but over a decade?" I trail off.

"Sirius was a remarkable young man and innocent. I believe if anyone were to leave Azkaban relatively intact, it would be Sirius Black." He says firmly.

"Relatively intact?" I laugh. "I suppose one doesn't go through Azkaban unchanged. Did you know the library has the original copy of a journal kept by a guard who served in Azkaban for 17 years? Morbid and chilling stuff to experience the emotion behind each word. The pages were tainted somehow. Herman Krouse; a strong man." I look at Albus. "Dementors sound foul."

"I believe foul is an inadequate description for such beings."

"You've been near them?" I ask, before thinking on it. "Of course you have." I shake my head slightly. "I hope to never encounter one for as long as I live."

"Many a man has wished for the same thing, but life often holds it's own agenda."

* * *

 **A/N: Another hop, but i didn't want the story to be a day-by-day account of everything.**

 **Let me know if you have any suggestions or feedback. Enjoy!**


	9. Chapter 9: Troll in the dungeons

**A/N: Another nice long chapter**

* * *

Chapter 9: Troll in the dungeons

The first couple of mornings in my 'fitness regime' were pitiful. Hedwig had suggested the lake by rubbing her head against my elbow and showing me her view of the lake. I'd ran about 1000 metres before laying down on the sand whilst Hedwig mocked me from a nearby rock. I had briefly considered asking Tonks for advice, the wizarding law enforcement would have to be fit after all, but I wouldn't want to be roped into whatever she does. It had taken a while, but the running had slotted into my schedule, I use the time to digest the previous day's book absorptions. Good food and exercise, I may yet be salvageable.

Professor Quirrell runs past me on my way to the Great Hall. "Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" He shouts just before I get to the door. A troll? What is a troll doing in the school? Probably not part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus.

I press my foot to the ground as the hall breaks into screams. Quirrell's echo comes running out of the hall backwards. I quickly follow the phantom as it runs; in a different situation I might be amused by the backwards running. It flickers as my foot misses one of Quirrell's footprints.

It vanishes all together as a foul smell fills my lungs, breaking my concentration. A new set of footprints on the ground, a murky grey-blue. I put my foot beside it for scale, this must be the troll's. I draw my wand and slowly follow the footprints, trying my best to ignore the horrific stench. I round the corner and come across one of the worst sights I've even lain eyes upon – A fat troll arse trying to squeeze through a tiny door. I'm glad I've not eaten yet or I'd vomit right here.

A high pitched scream reaches my ears. Great, the troll has a hostage inside the toilet. Not something I ever thought I'd hear myself think. I hurry forward, firing a 'Flipendo' hex at the visible door in an attempt to draw it's attention. When I reach the door, I see the troll swinging it's club across the room, splintering the wooden stools. Another scream. "Help!" Hermione. Why can things never be simple?

"Hermione!" I call out, using my wand to throw a splintered door at the troll, it turns tome. "Err, try not to die, ok?" The troll raises it's club over it's head and takes a step towards me. "Arresto momentum!" I manage to bark moments before being crushed. The club freezes two feet above me, the troll looks at it dumbly.

Fully grown mountain troll. Approximately 12 feet tall. No help. Dense bones, thick skull, thick skin. Getting closer. Spell resistant skin! That's what the book said!

"Harry!" Hermione scream again.

"Right." I aim a blasting hex at the large mirror on the wall. The shards explode outward, slicing into the troll, which only serves to anger it further. "Don't panic." I say, more to myself than Hermione, who is well beyond the panicking point. I fire a levitation charm at the frozen club, bringing it under my control as the troll steps towards me. With a sharp slash downwards, the club cracks against the troll's head. It teeters for a moment before falling forward, landing beside it's club, the dust settles a moment later. I keep a firm grip on my wand as I climb over the wreckage to Hermione, who is currently hiding beneath the sinks. "You alright?" I crouch down next to her. She nods shakily, dust falling from her hair. "Good good." I stand up as the pounding of footsteps grows louder. "The cavalry." I say once the teachers burst through the door.

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall gasps, clutching her hand over her chest. "Miss Granger! What is the meaning of this!? Are you alright?" I look between the troll, smashed room and then back to the expectant faces of the teachers.

"Toilet's clogged." I say.

"Potter!" Snape barks.

"Ok, ok." I raise my hands in mock surrender. "I picked up the troll's scent." I pointedly look at Albus. "And heard a scream, so I came in here and knocked it out with it's club."

"Just like that?" Flitwick asks.

"Well, there _was_ a bit of shouting, screaming, and smashing, but essentially yes."

"Why is it bleeding?" McGonagall asks, either disgusted by the smell or the troll itself.

"The mirror was smashed." I shrug.

"What were you thinking?" She looks at me furiously. "You could have been killed!"

"The key word being 'could'." I say defiantly. "Hermione would certainly have been killed had I not shown up when I did, no offence." I add, looking at the shaken girl. She nods.

"I think that, given the circumstances, Mister Potter has performed admirably." Flitwick says, attempting to diffuse the situation. "But I must ask, why were you in here during the feast, Miss Granger?" We all turn to the dust covered Gryffindor; She looks at her feet.

"Ronald Weasley." She mumbles.

"What was that, Granger?" Snape sneers at the pair of us.

"She said Ronald Weasley." I say for her, she looks at me gratefully. "I don't believe they get along well, _sir._ " I emphasize the last word, returning his glare. The man is insane. "Might I suggest medical attention for Hermione?"

"Absolutely." McGonagall steps towards us. "Come with me Miss Granger."

"Filius, Mister potter, Perhaps we should retire to my office?" Albus suggests. "Severus, if you could assist Professor Quirrell in transporting our guest." He gestures to the troll.

"Of course, Headmaster." Snape glares at me as I follow them out of the toilet. Completely off his rocker.

"Are your feet unharmed?" Albus asks me. "The mirror was shattered all over the floor."

"Impervious charms, sir." I look down at my feet and wriggle my toes. He nods as I look back up and we resume our walk.

"I trust you used more than your nose to locate the troll?" Albus asks without turning to me. I glance at Flitwick.

"Sir?"

"Filius is aware of your talents."

"Oh." Nice being told things. Better late than never I suppose. "I was following Professor Quirrell's footsteps, logically he had to have seen the troll, but once I found the troll's footprints I switched target, this lead me to Hermione." We walk in silence for the rest of the journey.

"Chocolate frogs." Albus intones to the gargoyle. I think it's odd that he needs a password for his own office. I see the stone statue dancing with magic as we walk past.

Each time I visit the Headmaster's office, I notice more and more things. With my huge progress in my ability to see magic, the whole room lights up like a Christmas tree. I take up my usual seat as Flitwick stands beside the desk. I didn't know Albus had a brother. Aberforth. "This is why I call you Albus." I tell him. "If I said 'Dumbledore' then it could mean Aberforth too." I settle comfortably into the chair. "Although to most people, you are 'The Dumbledore'."

"'The Dumbledore'?" He pauses. "Yes, I suppose they do." He shakes his head slightly, dispelling the thought. "I want to thank you for saving Miss Granger. If not for you, I fear we would have been too late." He says gravely. "Could you describe the method in which you tracked the troll?"

"I was just outside the Great Hall when Professor Quirrell ran past me ..."

I retell the gripping tale.

"... And that leads us up to the point when you arrived." I finished. "Although I must ask, How did a troll get into the school?" I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

"At this point, I cannot say." Albus smiles warmly.

"Which means it's none of my business." I laugh. "I'll even avoid following the trail for a while, I'll leave that to you." I take a lemon drop. "I can only hope that nobody finds out about my 'heroics'."

* * *

"'Harry Potter – Troll slayer'." Tonks reads from the Daily Prophet at breakfast.

"Just kill me now." I groan, slapping my forehead against the table as Tonks cackles. Over the past few weeks, I've taken to sitting at the Hufflepuff table a few times a week.

"Oh, Harry." I look up at Tonks, who now has the back of her hand pressed against her forehead. "Save me from the troll, Harry Potter!" She cries dramatically.

"Tonks." I deadpan. "You are, without a doubt, the _least_ damsel-like person I had ever met." Her mask cracks as she grins and starts to laugh. "I didn't even kill the troll anyway. Just … bashed it over the head a bit."

"Maybe you knocked some sense into it." She holds up her fists. "Trolls aren't to mess with the fearsome Harry Potter!" She laughs.

"You're impossible, dya know that?" I smile.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way." She says ambiguously. My head returns to the table.

* * *

"Harry! Come in, come in." Albus beckons me into the classroom. "How are you this morning?"

"Fine." I say. "But incredibly confused as to why you insisted on me coming here in place of my morning run." He had gotten Linter ( the house elf ) to pin a note to the inside of my door. Professor Flitwick is also here, wearing much less baggy clothes than his norm.

"Filius has kindly agreed to assist us in carrying out a test, it will soon become clear as to why I am unfit for this task." Albus explains.

"A test? At six in the morning?" I ask. "Has Snape spiked your lemon drops?"

"They are no less sharper than any other day." He chuckles. "Perhaps it would best best to pass over to you." He says to Flitwick.

"Mister Potter. The Headmaster and I have devised this test to further understand your unique abilities." Flitwick paces a couple of steps. "Albus was initially against the idea, but I have faith in you."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you you explain-" He interrupts me by throwing a large stick as me. I instinctively reach out and catch it, quickly learning that it is a wooden practice sword, Flitwick often throws it when he is about to – I snap the sword up to block his attack aimed straight for my head.

"Good." He nods, swinging at my leg. I take a step back and parry the next attack as he whirls around. This is the sword he gave to students when he trained amateur duellists, sometimes a sword would be used. He quickly thrusts his own sword towards my face, I barely manage to move my head sideways before batting the sword aside and taking a step towards him, transferring into an offensive stance.

A couple of minutes of dancing later, he delivers a sharp blow to the top of my head. I drop the sword and fall over. Much of his sparring ends like this, the student being hit in the head by the tip of his sword.

"Urgh." I groan, touching my fingers lightly to the lump.

"A stunning success." Albus claps from his chair.

"Stunning." I laugh. "Very funny." He smiles and helps me to my feet. "But what if that hadn't worked? And why not just ask me?"

"Then I would have hit you in the head a lot sooner." He says happily, ignoring my second question.

"Oddly enough, that doesn't really make me feel any better." I wince as my fingers brush the bump. "This definitely woke me up; I assume this was about something more than a game of 'Hit Harry with a stick'?" Albus takes the lead.

"If we were to hand you a bow, a used one, could you shoot straight?" He asks, I nod. "And an axe, could you chop wood?"

"Assuming it's been used, then yes. Where is this going?" I ask.

"If we were to give you say … a wand, could you duel?" He peers over his glasses at me. My eyes widen slightly.

"I mean, I suppose I could, but could we not start throwing spells at me just yet?" I joke nervously. "You fight dark lords." I turn to Flitwick. "Actually, I'm not sure which of you frightens me more." They chuckle.

"Not to worry." Albus smiles. "You will perhaps get a moment's warning."

A momen- wait, what?"

"Does the term 'muscle memory' mean anything to you?" Albus ignores my question.

"I know what it means, yes, but if you're asking me if it applies to me, then I'd say only partially. You've both seen my handwriting?" They both nod. "Very good looking, if I do say so myself, but thanks to an old pen I found amongst a dozen bad ones in an antiques shop. A man, Liam something, used it an I adopted his style through that pen."

"And the same with the sword?" Flitwick asks, I nod.

"Partially. I think I had to sift through the bad stuff to find the correct forms, but it still felt natural."

"Interesting." Albus nods slowly. "Whilst Lily and James were adept duellists, I don't believe either of them ever fought a troll. That seems to have been your own ingenuity. Have you inspected their duelling via the wands?"

"Just fort he spells. I didn't think using magic to fight would be the same as holding a pen so I didn't bother." I say honestly.

"I see." He appears to be in deep though. "Do you wish to test the theory?"

"I'd prefer to give their wands a quick look again if that's ok?" He nods. "Do you want me to go and grab them? Or can Linter do it?"

"Linter?" Flitwick asks.

"My 'personal' house elf." I smile. "I suspect Albus asked her to attend to my room alone rather than the other house elves in an attempt to limit my exposure or something."

"And did it?" Albus smiles.

"Er, yes actually. Thank you." I say, suddenly uncomfortable. A soft pop signals the arrival of Linter with a pair of wands wrapped in cloth.

"Thanks you, Linter." Albus accepts the package, Linter turns to leave.

"Uh, Thanks for cleaning up after me." I add. She blushes at the praise and vanishes on the spot. All the bedsheets I've burnt are whisked away promptly, apparently she hasn't mentioned them to either Albus nor Flitwick. I unwrap the wands after Albus hands me them, taking James' first.

11 inches of mahogany around a Norwegian Ridgeback heartstring. Just a pain, run of the mill wand, no secret destinies or brother wands. Just a lifetime, albeit a short one, of James Potter. One year of service as an Auror. Lots of fighting and a few deaths. Great form, very quick and hard hitting.

"Much better than the first time." I smirk. I wasn't hospitalised this time. I switch wands.

10 and a quarter inches of willow and a phoenix feather from 'K-nackthvar'. A far greater range of magic used through it's life. A much more supportive style of fighting than James. Designed to keep her opponents off balance until there is a big enough opening for her to finish them off, or for someone else to. She also developed a strange technique that enabled her to fire off spells at three times the normal rate, but she couldn't move whilst doing so.

"Bloody hell." I say, replacing the wand carefully beside it's partner. I shake my head to reconnect with reality as I draw my own wand, twirling it in a very James-like manner, a smile spreading across my face. "On with the games."

* * *

 **A/N: I had originally called the story 'Copycat' due to this mechanic of Harry's power. Grab someone's wand - Learn a lot. Or if a witch has been naughty with her wand, but we'll leave Harry to discover that in his own time.**

 **Ejnoy!**


	10. Chapter 10: Through the looking glass

Chapter 10: Through the looking glass

It's Christmas Day, and for the past three days, excluding Professor Flitwick and the Grey Lady, I've been the only person in the Ravenclaw tower. It's eerie when nobody is here cluttering up the place.

"Brek!" I roll over and glare at Hedwig. She is giving me a look that says 'You can't stay in bed all day.' "I can try." I roll back over.

"Brek brek."

"Not one." I agree. "Anthony is Jewish and he didn't stay."

"Blekck." She hoots sorrowfully.

"Ah yes: Family." I sigh. "I suppose so." I add sitting up. "I wonder if Albus enjoyed my present." I climb out of bed. I managed to convince Tonks to go to the sweet shop in Hogsmeade for me to buy a box of 'Apple drops'. At first she had teased me about a secret girlfriend and made kissy faces when I was talking to Hermione. She'd looked as if I'd slapped her when I told her they were for the Headmaster. She tried to convince me that I couldn't give 'Albus-Bloody-Dumbledore' sweets for Christmas, I ignored her.

I open my door and traverse the stairs towards the common room.

Tonks is, of course, visiting home for the holiday, as is Hermione. My lack of of friends saddens me for a moment. 'Quality over quantity' Even Draco can hold a decent conversation when he isn't talking about his beloved Father or spouting nonsense about 'mudbloods', which builds up to about 80% of what he says.

Hedwig's urgent hooting draws my attention from the portrait hole. She is pecking at a present under the tree. "Come on, Hedwig. You'll mess someone's stuff up." I walk over to her. She taps on the label. "Harry Potter." The 'O' is stylized as a heart. "Well I'll be damned." It could only be Tonks or a crazed fangirl … So Tonks.

 _'I reckon your muggles wouldn't get you anything,_

 _So I splashed out on a couple of these for us – Tonks'_

Again with the stylized 'O' in her name. I smile as I open the badly wrapped gift. My ability takes away the surprise of the contents, but does nothing to take away from the present itself. Contained within the slim box is a wand holster; Since I'd told her about my lessons with Albus and Flitwick, she insisted on giving me the 'Auror treatment'. She'd never admit it, but I've almost beaten her a few times. I tire much quicker than her unfortunately. Antipodean Opaleye dragonhide, part of a pair. She has, quite purposefully, given me the one with the small engraving of 'Tonks' on it; Her one bears 'Potter'. I tap my finger on the instructions and adjust the straps accordingly as it fits inside of my right forearm. And perhaps the best feature – I watch as the whole assembly alters to match the colour of my skin. "Wicked." I grin.

"Hoot." Hedwig looks at me teasingly.

"Oh be quiet you." I don't fight the smile.

The next present, wrapped in paper displaying small Christmas trees, is a book from Hermione detailing the finer points of the creation of Dragonhide boots, a jab at my eternal lack of shoes. I'd given her a book on magical creatures; using the Flourish and Blotts owl order service. I bookmarked the section on mountain trolls, she had rolled her eyes, but hugged me anyway.

The third and final package is wrapped in blue paper conjured by Albus, apparently in an attempt to conceal the contents, but as the paper had touched it too, this plan didn't work out. An old cloak apparently. I detach the note.

' _Your father left this in my possession before he died._

 _It is time that it was returned to you._

 _Use it well._

 _A very merry Christmas to you.'_

He hadn't signed it, but he knows he needn't do so. I remove the wrapping paper and hold up the cloak. It's just a cloak. I frown as I stand up. "Not my usual get up." I comment to Hedwig. I can't seem to get a grasp on it's history. I can see James using it and another two men with messy black hair, but not who made it, nor any magical properties or it's history. "What do you reckon, Hedwig?" I hold it closer to my face. It's incredibly thin, more so than paper, like holding liquid. "When in doubt, throw it over yourself." I wrap the cloak around my shoulders, feeling somewhat disappointed by the lack of dinosaurs. Hedwig squawks, looking incredibly alarmed. I look down at my body, or lack of body. "Ah!" I quickly remove the cloak from myself. The invisibility cloak. Capable of hiding itself and the user from anything. " _The invisibility_ cloak?" I wonder aloud, holding the cloak between myself and the fire, It's easy to see through and very large. Odd that it's _'The'_ cloak, rather than ' _a' cloak. "_ I think this will be incredibly useful." I wrap my entire body and head in the shroud before stuffing it into my pocket with little effort. I feel slightly unsettled by it's hidden properties and non-existent thickness, but it's yet to eat my soul or anything. "Breakfast, my dear?" Hedwig rolls her eyes and heads out of the window. I think I'm losing it. I'll end up like Albus if I'm not careful; Drawing all my sustenance from lemon drops. I shudder as I exit the common room.

* * *

"Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley." I greet as I walk on the opposite side of the table to the four brothers. Only one table is in use for the students that have stayed over the break. "Merry Christmas and all that." I sit opposite the twins.

"Merry Christmas." They echo cheerfully, pulling a Christmas cracker. The thing goes off like a cannon blast, engulfing this section of the hall in yellow smoke. Probably not healthy to inhale, but I laugh along as Percy tries to waft it away from his plate whilst Fred continues to blow more onto it.

* * *

After the festivities and snowball fight ends, I return to the common room with Flitwick. He bids me good night before heading off to bed. Despite his size, he managed to drink a surprising amount. I wait in the common room for a while to ensure he isn't coming back before extracting my new cloak and slipping out of the common room.

Whilst on my invisible adventure, I come across a locked door; A magically locked door at that. I check up and down the dark corridor quickly to make sure I'm alone before drawing my wand. The magical forms a misty lattice across the doorway, I can only assume this is what locked doors should like.

"Alohomora." I whisper, still not keen on the idea being caught. I try the door handle, watching as the magic tests my hand. Still locked. "Finite." I poke the handle with the tip of my wand. This causes the ward to peel back away. This time the door opens. As my hand trails across the door as I pass, I learn that Albus moved something in here in August. The room is devoid of furniture save for the large ornate mirror standing in the centre of the room on golden clawed feet. Perhaps ten feet tall and half as wide. I cross into the centre of the room, keeping my distance from the mirror, I wouldn't wand to get trapped inside it or something. Quite predictably, nothing shows up as I walk past, still under the cover of my cloak; It works against mirrors too, very useful. I walk to the side of the mirror, shifting my hand from underneath the invisible shroud and lay it on the wooden frame. The mirror of Erised. Desire. The inscription is mirrored and correctly reads:

 _'I show not your face, but your heart's desire.'_

It's been sitting in a room oddly reminiscent to my cloak – hidden. One of the few remaining relics of Rowena Ravenclaw. Rowena had spent months planning every tiny aspect of the mirror and just as long putting it together. The reflective part is made of an incredibly rare and expensive metal known in English as 'Mithril'. The looking glass would be worth a hefty fortune as raw metal, but it is currently priceless; Unique. Many have stared into it's depths and lost their minds, others simply starve and waste away before it. Occasionally it gets lost for a few decades, but it's always found. The frame is beautifully carved by Rowena's own hands, a woman of many talents. I walk into the centre of the room, standing in from of the mirror, still shrouded. What would I see? Money? I have money. Family? Perhaps, but is it my deepest desire?

"The happiest man in the world would see only himself." Echo-Albus appears beside Echo-Snape, both of them gazing at the mirror from either side of me. "Do you see her?" He asks softly. Echo-Snape glides out of the room. "A dangerous artefact indeed." Echo-Albus mutters, shaking his head slightly before following. What would Albus see? He has lived a long and full life, but not without it's losses. And Snape, What woman? I sigh. My turn now. I remove my cloak and hang it over right arm before returning my attention to the mirror.

It's me. A few years older and a fair bit taller, but not hugely so. The same hair, styled as a bird's nest. Some things never change. I frown as I take a step forward, my reflection follows my movements, holding his consistent lopsided grin. I reach up and push my hair aside; My trademark stamp is still there. A simple silver band on his middle finger catches my eye as our arm falls back down. I take a few steps back from the mirror, taking in the sight again. He is wearing a simple dark blue and white checked shirt and dark blue fitted jeans, a chain necklace just shows under the shirt. As ever, no shoes or socks. He appears to not be as thin as I, filling out his clothes. Could be worse. I'm sure the mirror will be long gone before Tonks gets back, so I can't show her and I'd be lucky to convince Hermione to go out after curfew were she here. I have nobody to share it with. Hedwig would see herself as a dragon or something.

"Linter." I call out.

"Master Harry sir! Students is not supposed to bes calling us."

"It's Christmas." I say, sitting down on the floor. "Come." I pat the stone beside me. Linter looks at me strangely before sitting down cross-legged beside me, still watching me. "What can you see?" I ask, gesturing to the mirror.

"I sees us on the floor Master Harry sir." She frowns up at me. "Is you feelin' ok?"

"Nothing irregular?" I turn my attention to the mirror. Just Linter and my older self.

"I sees us." She says. "With warm cups of chocolate." She looks down at her hands and then mine.

"It shows what people desire, Linter." I smile. "Could you be so kind as to fetch a couple of mugs of hot chocolate?" She frowns and clicks her fingers; a pair of mugs appear on the floor in front of me. "Merry Christmas, Linter." I place one mug in front of her and take a sip from the other. It's clear that she thought both were for me. She tentatively picks up the her own.

"Merry Christmas, Master Harry sir."

* * *

With nothing better to do, I visit the mirror on boxing day and the day after. Perhaps hoping that now I'd seen my 'Heart's desire' that the image would change. Albus is waiting in the room. I fold my cloak into my pocket.

"Good evening, Harry." He greets me.

"Do you wish me a good evening, or mean that it is a good evening whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this evening; or that it is an evening to be good on?" I reply.

"All of them at once." He smiles in return.

"A curious mirror." I say, taking my place beside Albus, looking into the mirror once more. "To show the deepest desire of one's heart supposedly."

"Supposedly?" He queries.

"I find the meaning of mine to be a mystery; It's merely my reflection." I explain.

"The happiest man-"

"Would see nought but his reflection." I nod, stepping towards the mirror, laying my hand upon it; a faint click follows my reflection's hand mirroring my action, it seems to amuse him. "A man once tried to turn the Earth inside out using this mirror." I laugh. "The poor sod stepped in front of it and it got him instead."

"Metaphorically, I assume?" Albus asks, looking worried.

"Of course." I smirk. "And thank your for the cloak." I turn back to him. "It hides from just about everything in existence, including me. It took some work, but I've pulled a few bits of information off of it."

"Such as?"

"A few previous owners, mostly Potters, and some of it's abilities." I say. "Also, it's age. The year 1250, but it's hiding the exact date. The first owner was Ignotus Peverell, but I'm sure you knew that." He smiles and nods. "It's aura is a unique shade of purple too. I looked up the Peverell family, don't tell Madam Pince, they are an old family, but the best reference was 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'. The story claims that Death bestowed three items of power unto the three brothers."

"And is it true?" He looks oddly excited.

"It's hidden." I laugh as he deflates. "Maybe in time I can unravel it's secrets, or if you happen across the other two." I pat the mirror. "An odd thing to keep in a school." I walk back towards the door, replacing the cloak around my shoulders.

"I suppose it is." He nods.

"I'm sure you could fund the school for years if you wanted to." I lift pull the hood up and obscure the rest of my head. "I hope you take good care of it for Mister Flamel." He whirls around in shock, but I'm already out the door.

* * *

 **A/N: A bit of a slower paced one, but i think it's interesting. Harry will learn more about the cloak if he studies it more. Enjoy!**


	11. Chapter 11: Detective Potter

**A/N: Should Harry be a Metamorphagus? I love writing about them.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Detective Potter

The new year passes without much note. I decide to meet Tonks when she gets off the train, so I'd caught a ride down to the station on the carriages. The Thestrals were creepy looking, but cool in their own skeletal horse kind of way. I sit on the bench on the platform reading about Albus' legendary duel with Grindlewald, whom I can now identify as the same Gellert I'd asked Albus about when we'd first met. As the distant sound of the train draws nearer, I snap the book shut and stuff it back in my bag, removing the gloves I'd been wearing. Classes resume tomorrow; Tonight is just for settling back in. The train rolls into the station, hissing fiercely as it stops. The outer doors slide open as the compartments begin to empty in the walkways. As the platform starts to fill, I take a step up onto the bench to get a better view. From the last carriage, a lone head of pink enters the crowd, wading towards me. I drop down from the bench and Tonks grabs me, trying her best to crush every bone in my body with a hug.

"Harry!" She holds me out at arms length, giving me a once over. "You've grown!"

"You're one to talk." I gesture to her. She looks down at her chest and retracts her assets, grinning.

"Messing with a sixth year on the train." She explains as we start to walk.

"Messing? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" I quip, she responds by throwing her head back and laughing rambunctiously. "New coat?" I gesture to the long red trench coat. "A Christmas present from your Mum?" I ask innocently.

"Right in one." She pouts. "You're too good at that." If only you knew. I smirk. "How've ya been?"

"Can't complain." I shrug. "Staying in a dusty, cold old castle for a couple of weeks with nobody but Albus to talk to." She wrinkles her nose.

"It's still weird that you call him that."

"It _is_ his name." I point out.

"Don't call me by my name though, do ya?" She counters.

"Albus doesn't turn red and point his wand at whoever uses his name though." I smile, she laughs. "Do you want me to? Maybe 'Nymmy'?"

"Watch yourself, Potter." She scowls playfully.

"It's Potter now is it? Tonks and Potter. Sounds like we're starting a law firm or something." I snort. Tonks throws her arm around my shoulders.

"Can you imagine?" She laughs. "Your name would have to go first of course, to bring in the big shots."

"Naturally." I agree. "Fancy being the secretary? We could count how many cups of tea you spill on yourself each day."

"Hey! I'm not _that_ bad." She protests.

"Of course not, You'd get to me sometimes and then spill it on me instead." She laughs as we climb onto the Thestral-drawn carriage. "How about you? Good Christmas?"

"Great! New coat, some other clothes, Brilliant pair of boots and some good books. A good haul." She says triumphantly.

"Books? Are you feeling ok? You got books for Christmas?"

"Oi! I love books; Not just a pretty face y'know."

"Not even that." I pretend to mutter.

"Oh you cheeky bugger!" She cackles, driving a pair away from our carriage. The Thestrals, noticing nobody else getting on, begin to move. "Can't be an Auror without hitting the books once in a while."

"Tonks. You're supposed to _read_ books, not _hit_ them." I smirk.

"You know what I meant!" She huffs. It's good to have her back. She starts to babble. Aurors, books, Quidditch, Music – Anything. I tune out ever so slightly, having been treated to similar babbles many times before, watching her body language as she speaks. Besides looking completely exhausting, it appears that she is nervous or worried about something. Even under her bubbly and colourful exterior, she can't quite hide it. "What?" She looks at me oddly, frowning slightly. I must have missed the last question. Should I ask If she's ok? She might deflect it.

"You're nervous." I say simply. "Is it a boy? Do I need to beat somebody up?" She laughs softly, not quite meeting my eye. A possibility. "NEWTS?" I throw her an escape from my questioning.

"Don't wanna mess em up, y'know?" She latches onto the idea.

* * *

I chat with Michael and Gavin through the 'Welcome back' feast; They don't usually sit next to each other, but it's nice to catch up with them. Michael had been given a new broom for Christmas and intends to take Gavin's place as seeker when he leaves next year.

Albus had left the feast not long after the food had appeared. A large owl had dropped a letter straight onto his plate, He had burnt the letter after reading it before saying a few words to McGonagall, who had raised her hand over her mouth in apparent shock. Albus had strode out of the hall, frowning deeply. It happens from time to time, he is called away on business, usually ending up in the Daily Prophet the next day. Someone had mentioned that their mother had seen him sprint out of the hall, eyes streaming, on Halloween night 1981.

"Mister Potter." I look behind me to see Albus wearing a stony face … in Professor mode. "Come with me."

"Of course." I quickly pick up my bag and hurry after him, out of the hall. "Professor?" He doesn't respond. "Albus?" He looks at me as we walk.

"What do you know of Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"War Veteran. Late forties? Master Auror – Second only to Alastor Moody if the rumours are true. Currently Head of the Auror Office." I answer automatically. "Why?"

"Earlier this evening, Rufus Scrimgeour was attacked in his home by an unknown assailant. He is currently in critical condition in St. Mungos and the healers fear he has little time left. Due to the high priority of such an attack, I was called upon to look for evidence." He says grimly. "It takes desperation for them to ask me. Nothing. 'No trace' they had told me."

"And you told them that there is always a trace?" I wager, he nods. "And you came to fetch me. What if I'd said no?" He raises an eyebrow at me. I grin is response. This sounds like too much fun, ignoring the dying man of course. I pat my pockets – Invisibility cloak, money pouch – All set.

"Madam Bones awaits us in my office with a portkey."

"From Hogwarts? I thought that wasn't possible." The wards should stop such a thing. Albus shoots me an amused look.

"Being the Headmaster does has it's perks." He says mysteriously as we arrive at the gargoyle outside his office. "Mars bar." He says as I discard my cumbersome robe on the floor.

" _This_ is your 'unique tracking method'?" A middle aged woman asks Albus, looking at me as I roll up my sleeves. "Is this-" She shakes her head. "Nevermind. Let's just go." She holds up a length of rope which possesses a pink aura.

"Do you have everything you require?" Albus asks me. I pat my arm, revealing my wand holster.

"All good, Chief." I smirk, gripping one end of the rope. Madam Bones sighs as Albus closes his fist around the middle before activating the portkey. I squeeze my eyes shut as we start to spin, resisting the urge to scream and vomit all at once. I bend my knees, as the book had suggested, and open my eyes once we land; Just outside of the fence surrounding a small cottage.

There are already a dozen Aurors on the inside of the perimeter. The fence itself is just inside where the sparkling wards end. One of the Aurors spots us and taps his wand on the gate, opening it up. The wards peel back to create a tall opening in the wards, allowing us entrance. I follow Albus and Madam Bones, turning on the spot and walking backwards to watch them reseal behind us. I have to fight the smile off my face; As amazing and awesome magic looks, Scrimgeour was almost killed earlier.

"Dawlish. Status." Madam Bones orders a man in his thirties.

"Nobody has entered the house, as requested." He says. "Moody turned up too."

"You stopped him from entering?" She arches her eyebrow at the man, he shakes his head.

"Shacklebolt managed to keep him outside, he he doesn't really need to be close, does he?" Dawlish taps under his left eye.

"He say anything?" Madam Bones massages her temples.

"Clean as a whistle apparently." Dawlish says.

"Are whistles notoriously clean?" I ask. Dawlish turns to me, seeing me for the first time apparently.

"Who's this?" He gestures to me.

"Consultant Detective Potter." I say, drawing a galleon from my pouch.

"A … What?"

"I just made it up." I hold the galleon in front of my face, between my thumb and index finger. "The wards are supposed to be unbreachable, right?" I ask Madam Bones. She looks at Albus, who only shrugs.

"Yes. Our experts say they are unharmed, not even an attempt." She tells me, seemingly at wits end. I turn and throw the galleon at the wards, the coin passes through a tiny gap at waist height, a break in the mesh.

"I'd say that's how he got it." I smirk as the 'experts' flock to the break. I turn back to the disbelieving faces. "Nitwit, blubber ..."

"Oddment, tweak." Albus smiles, I detect a hint of pride in his eyes. "Perhaps a look inside?" He suggests, Dawlish nods dumbly.

As we approach the house, it quickly becomes clear who is Shacklebolt, and who is the legendary Alastor 'Mad'Eye' Moody. The shorter man is leaning on his staff and seems to be growling – Moody. The taller Auror is standing under the porch, blocking the door. His hands are clasped loosely together, very much like a club's bouncer would stand. His body appears relaxed, but his eyes watch us sharply as we approach.

"Auror Shacklebolt, Alastor." Albus greets the two men before dropping into 'Official mode'. Shacklebolt has a quill and a piece of parchment on the porch's table. "A record of who enters." Albus informs me quietly before stepping in after Madam Bones and Moody. He gestures for me afterwards.

 _Alastor Moody – Ex-Auror_

 _Amelia Bones – Head of the DMLE_

 _Albus Dumbledore – Chief Warlock_

I write ' _Harry Potter'_ Before adding ' _-Detective'_.

"Nobody goes in." Madam Bones says to Shacklebolt as the door is opened.

The entrance hall is short, I wipe my bare feet on the mat – This is still a man's home – before we enter the living room. Photos, medals and newspaper clippings line the mantelpiece, related to Scrimgeour's long career, no doubt. The room isn't scruffy nor unnaturally clean. A book, a copy of the Daily Prophet, and an undrunk cup of coffee sits on the table beside the maroon armchair.

"The house is clean, Amelia. It's like he just keeled over and fell into the bloody coma." Moody grunts.

"Alastor." She gives him a pointed look, gesturing to me. I snort loudly.

"May I?" I ask Albus. He nods.

"Please do." I drop my bag and rub my hands together.

I walk to the window first, running my finger over the window sill, inspecting the dust then placing my hand against the window pane. I turn and pick up various trophies from the fireplace. "Interesting." I mutter as I sit in the armchair. Finely made by his mother as a 20th anniversary present for his father, They both loved the chair. I pick up the paper and pretend to read it as I watch the echoes around the room and absorb what little information it holds. I pick up the coffee, taking a sip, as I stand up, finally taking pity on the uninformed. I think I've gone a bit stir crazy in Hogwarts. "The Assassin first breached the wards at 5 o'clock sharp. The ward breaker was disintegrated when the Assassin grew impatient and jogged him right near the end. The Assassin then prowled across the lawn under the cover of a powerful disillusionment charm, Stealth is this man's forté." I walk back to the window. "This window has only been closed twice since Scrimgeour has lived here. The day he bought it and now; He never wanted to miss a potentially important owl." I explain, walking into the kitchen, the others congregate in the doorway. I take another sip from the coffee. "Whilst the Assassin was dismantling the wards on the window, Scrimgeour was making himself a drink in preparation for reading the newspaper. Black coffee, no sugar or milk." I walk through the three of them, standing behind the armchair. "He sat back in his chair, putting the coffee down. Now, Scrimgeour is an intelligent guy – He realised something was going down." I point my finger like a gun at the back of the chair. "The Assassin stood here and was just about to blow his head off, but Scrimgeour kicked his chair back." I crouch down and point to the almost non-existent scrape marks. "This threw the Assassin off balance for long enough to allow Scrimgeour to run around and grapple with his attacker, knowing that the man wasn't expecting a physical melee. The Assassin used a powerful knock-back jinx as the wand was pointed at the ground, it threw them into the ceiling."

"Are you making this up?" Moody growls.

"It left a small amount of the Assassin's hair wax on the ceiling." I point upwards, not bothering to look as I'd witnessed the echoes fighting already. "The Assassin hit Scrimgeour with two curses after Scrimgeour had already shot a thick arrow into his stomach. The second curse was designed to obscure medical spells readings to prevent proper healing and treatment. I assume he isn't doing well?"

"That's classified." Madam Bones says, looking slightly shaken.

"Very clever, I can see why the Assassin favoured such a curse, to make it look natural or something. Maybe just to prolong the suffering."

"So you don't know what the first curse did?" Moody turns both eyes on my as I crouch down.

"It turns organs into liquid." I say, staring back up at him. "And not the musical kind judging by the way he is screaming and thrashing." I close my eyes, trying to will the echo to be quiet.

"Harry?" My eyes snap back open. Albus is looking at me, concern evident in his face.

"The Assassin stumbled back to the window." I walk to the window, open it and climb out, coffee in hand. "He then left the residence the way he came in, setting off the alarm in his haste, which is the only reason Scrimgeour made it to hospital. We wouldn't even know what happened yet if he hadn't stuck him with that arrow."

"Dawlish!" Madam Bones marches out of the house. "St. Mungos. Now. Organ liquification curse." Dawlish doesn't even take the time to nod, he just breaks off in a sprint and leaps through the hole in the wards, disapparating in mid-air.

"That was cool." I say, staring at the now vacant spot where Dawlish had vanished, draining the coffee.

"Any idea who attacked?" Moody asks gruffly.

"His name is 'Jacob Nott'. I believe his nephew is in my year." There is a groan from Madam Bones. I'd guess dealing with rich 'purebloods' probably involves a shit load of paperwork.

* * *

 **A/N: I envisage somebody asking Dumbledore to "Call in Potter." in the future. This is part of what i envisioned Harry using his power for, solving things when the Aurors are out of their depth. ( Which is always )**

 **I thought it would be interesting to try a chapter where we read to results of Harry's work, rather than what he is seeing straight away**

 **What is it that weighs heavily on Tonks' mind?**

 **Super serious question - Should Harry be a Metamorphagus? ( Yes i know i've been spelling that wrong forever. )**

 **Let me know what you think of this. Harry is a bit 'off'. A lot of stuff goes into his head. Enjoy!**


	12. Chapter 12: Into the Woods

**A/N: I'm trying out a more snappy format for this chapter, it's not going to become the norm a don't think. It feels like i'm skipping too many little transitions.**

* * *

Chapter 12: Into the Woods.

"'Harry Potter Saves Head Auror's life'" Tonks reads the headline incredulously. " _That's_ where you went last night?" The first day of term – Already the talk of the school again.

"I lead an interesting life." I shrug.

"That's it?" She laughs. "No 'They're exaggerating'?"

"Nope." I grin. "Note of this 'Boy-Who-Lived' crap. Just plain old me." I'm actually incredibly pleased with myself. "Once Dawlish got to St. Mungos, it only took 10 minutes to get Scrimgeour stable. Tough old boy, that's for sure. A week of potions and he'll be as good as new apparently. Pissed as hell, I reckon, but alive.

"I got you something." Tonks grins mischievously as I look up from my food. She hands me a magazine. 'Witches Weekly'. The cover is a large photo of me smiling uncertainly into the cameras. They'd shown up soon after I'd finished.

 _'Boy-Who-Lived: Defender of Aurors!'_

My forehead finds is customary place on the table. Tonks laughs victoriously. "' _What's in the cup? Page 16 to see out speculations_.' Brilliant!"

"Bloody hell." I groan. "It's was Scrimgeour's coffee. I was drinking it to be funny!"

" _'Perhaps his own blend of Hero-Serum. Said to have been a favourite of Albus Dumbledore._ '." Tonks barely manages to get through the whole thing between bouts of laughter, I can't help but smile along with the madness.

"My own Hero-Serum?" I shake my head. "That doesn't even mean anything!"

"Oh, I'm sure _lots_ of the readers want a splash of your 'Hero-Serum'." She grins lecherously. I drop my head into my hands and look at Hedwig.

"The world's gone mad, Hedwig." She hoots in agreement as we watch Tonks dissolve into a fit of laughter.

* * *

"Hermione." I say calmly as we sit atop the fence outside of Hagrid's hut. "I wouldn't consider myself a snitch, but could you please tell me why I shouldn't just tell Albus that Hagrid has a dragon egg ready to hatch? He has official paths to safely transport the egg to a reserve and you know Albus wouldn't let anything happen to Hagrid." She had been as frantic as Hagrid when we'd met up for tea in day in late April. Hagrid is a good friend, having endless tales of James' escapades and being an all around good person, but he is a bit daft when it comes to extremely dangerous animals.

"What if Professor Dumbledore took an oath saying he had to always uphold the law?" She pleads, her hands tightly gripping her knees. "Hagrid would go to Azkaban!"

"He'd probably fashion some leashes for the Dementors within a week." I laugh at the mental image of Hagrid strolling around with 50 Dementors pulling on their leashes. Hermione smacks my arm.

"This is serious!" She huffs angrily.

"Ok ok!" I hold my hands up. "So what? We cage it up after it hatches, then what? I'm not actually a superhero y'know, despite what the Prophet says." Hermione deflates.

"I don't know." She pouts. I wrap one arm around her, she leans her head against my shoulder.

"I'll tell you what. I'll talk to my people, see if I can't figure something out. Sound good?"

"Harry." She sighs. "You don't actually have people, do you?"

"Ask no questions and receive no lies." I smile as she groans.

* * *

"So, Albus." I say slowly as I sit in telescope's chair. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that I knew somebody that had, oh … I don't know, a hatching dragon egg … Would there be a way to safely get the thing to a reserve without anyone being thrown in a hypothetical, Dementor guarded prison?" I ask as casually as possible.

He just begins to laugh from his desk. I turn around to see that he's lain his quill down and removed his glasses to laugh more. He sits there for a while before he can recompose himself. He peers over his shoulder at me, smiling away.

"You have an odd way of making paperwork more entertaining." He turns away again. "You say the strangest things.

"I like to keep an old man on his toes." I grin.

"Does this hypothetical somebody have a dragon breeding license?" He asks, picking up his quill again. Albus had once told me that I was always welcome in his office. A moment later, Lucius Malfoy had come through the floo. I shook his hand, told him that Draco had told me much about him and left the room. Once I returned, Albus had amended his statement to 'You are _almost_ always welcome in my office'. This lead to days like this, where I laze about – rifling through his stuff and chatting.

"No license, No." I say. "Hypothetically of course." He laughs.

"There is a loophole that would allow the legal relocation if the Dragon had yet to hatch."

"So a live dragon would be much more trouble than this hypothetical egg?"

"Precisely."

"Pleasant weather we are having." I remark casually.

"Quite." He agrees.

"Could you do me a completely unrelated favour and tell me who is in charge of magical creature regulation these days? Or something to that effect?"

"Amos Diggory." Albus says with a slight chuckle. "I believe you know Cedric?" Cedric Diggory. Third year Hufflepuff. A distant friend of Tonks'. Nice enough.

"Amos Diggory." I nod. "Thanks, Albus." I sweep my bag off his desk.

"Goodbye, Harry." He replies in a slightly exasperated tone.

* * *

"Sorry it had to be goodbye like this, Hagrid." I pat the blubbering man's arm as Amos Diggory's team puts the egg into, what I've been told is, a stasis chest.

"Nope." He sniffles. "This'll be be'er for 'im!" He blows his nose loudly.

"Maybe you can visit him in the reserve when he hatches?" Hermione suggests from beside me.

"I'm sure he'll remember you, Hagrid." I look up at him. "You did all the work getting him this far. He'll have imprinted on you." I say reassuringly, not completely sure if a dragon can imprint … or anything else for that matter.

"Ya reckon?" Hagrid asks hopefully.

"Definitely." I nod.

"Yer a true friend, Harry." He blubbers, patting me on the shoulder, almost knocking me to my knees.

"No problem." I smile up at him. "I'm sure you would have done something just as strange if I found myself with a dragon egg." He laughs wetly before walking over to Amos. I stuff my hands in my pockets. Best way to go about it? Probably not. Best result? Maybe. Hermione moves a step closer, I free one arm to accept her signature hug.

"Thank you."

Worth it? Absolutely.

* * *

"How'd I do?" I ask Albus a few days later. I've climbed the bookshelf and sat beside the Sorting Hat, repeatedly solving a Rubik's cube whilst Albus answers his fanmail. 'It's not fanmail.' He'd said.

"I believe Hagrid was most pleased with the arrangement in the end." He glances up at me. Atop a bookshelf, kicking my legs merrily as I mess up the Rubik's cube once more. The challenge kind of wanes when I know every step taken to messing it ip. "I had a passing conversation with Amos Diggory as I was coming back from the Ministry this morning."

"Oh?"

"He was very impressed by your quick thinking on the matter." Albus smiles. "'A sharp and well mannered young man.' He had said."

"Manners maketh man." I mutter, muddling the cube up again. "Any more thoughts on my living arrangements for this upcoming summer?" He sights and lays down the phoenix feather quill.

"I had hoped you would return to your Aunt and Uncle's home." He says slowly. "But that was before we had really spoken. Is there no way I can persuade you?"

"Have you ever been whipped? Or hit by a belt?" I stare into the cube.

"My Father preferred a good stinging hex to the buttock." He admits.

"A belt buckle. A good firm swing at one's back. The first time would hurt, right?" He nods. "The second time is just as bad, but what if you could felt the first hit too? And on the third hit, the other two. The fourth – The previous three, and so on. Each strike forever embedded onto the belt forever; A reminded of all the others."

"You don't mean..."

"Vernon owns one belt." I say, tossing him the cube and jumping down to the floor. "You know that I know all the stuff that happens in here, I keep your secrets. I'm going to ask you to keep on of mine." I say tonelessly as I un-tuck my shirt, turning my back to him and lifting my shirt. "Pretty nasty, right?" I readjust my uniform once more. "I don't blame you, of course. That which has been forged in fire only strengthens when tempered, or some such nonsense." I laugh. "I won't be going back to them. I just want some advice. Good spots or something." I turn back around. He pulls me into a hug. He is crying.

"Forgive an old man's mistakes." I hug him back.

"Probably the wrong time to ask, but you couldn't waive my detention tonight, could you?" He steps back from me, dabbing his eyes with his beard.

"You have detention? What ever for?"

"Some choice comments with Draco about Professor Quirrell's turban, sir." I smile a little.

* * *

"'Ello 'Arry!" Hagrid waves as Filch delivers us for the detention. I gaze into the forest as Draco makes his displeasure known and Filch … well he's weird. "Come on then! 'Aven't got all night." Hagrid hefts his crossbow and Draco feebly holds up the lamp.

* * *

"Not scared, are you?" I smile at Draco, clearly petrified. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit unsettled, but that's part of the fun, right?

"N-no." He stutters. I start to whistle a jaunty tune. "Stop it!" He hisses. "You'll draw something to us!"

"Have to find what's killing the unicorn, don't we?" I grin, twirling my wand playfully.

"At least light up the area a bit."

"That would draw something worse than what we're after, I assure you."

"Damn Quirrell and his stupid turban." Draco mutters.

"Enough of that." I say. "We got into this mess because of it." I look around at the magical trees. Everything is quite well lit for me. A very magical forest. I spot something in the distance, a dark red that isn't a tree. "What do you suppose that is?" I turn to Draco … or where he had been. Looking over my shoulder I see him running away in the distance. "Just you and me, creepy cloaked figure." I mutter. "And now I'm talking to myself."

The dark figure continues it's assault on the downed unicorn. I grit my teeth, firing a stunning hex at the figure. It screeches as the hex slides off of it's back, I easily dodge the sickly yellow curse that sails towards me. Witch or wizard. Always helps to know things. I return my own barrage of hexes whilst dodging between the trees, attempting to get closer. I hurl myself to the floor to dodge a deep purple arc that tears through the trees, felling them easily. I crawl forward, trying to stay out of view. Suddenly the Wraith jumps behind me, looking very menacing. I flick my wand and fire the strongest _Flipendo_ I can muster. The effect knocks me off my feet and throws the figure a good thirty metres away. It scampers off into the distance.

" _Periculum!_ " I fire the red sparks into the air and wait beside the unicorn. It suddenly kicks it's legs. Still alive. I _really_ don't have the training for this sort of thing. Why couldn't it have been a simple detention? Writing some lines, not being attacked by some crazed maniac and forced to try and stop a unicorn bleeding out. " _Episkey."_ I aim my wand at the large cut, praying that unicorns can be fixed the same way. The effect seems to be slow; I have to push the spell hard to get the skin to tighten and move back together. I can't do much about the muscle, but not bleeding to death should be a good compromise, right? I sit back against a fallen tree and pat the unicorn's neck. "You just uh … Lay there." I laugh. "I'll rest my eyes against this here stump." I return my wand to it's holster and lean my head back.

* * *

I crack my eyes open. Hospital wing. Safe. "I see you've rejoined us." Albus' voice comes from beside me.

"Seems so." I agree. "Spell fire. Very dark. Did the unicorn make it?"

"Their blood possesses incredibly potent restorative powers. Young Draco tells me that you sealed the wound shut after your duel."

"Duel?" I snort. "Could've been dead. How's Draco?"

"Shaken." I open my eyes again. "He is on the next bed." The curtains are drawn, giving us privacy. "Is there anything you wish to tell me before we 'draw back the veil'?"

"Nah, didn't really touch anything." I push my legs off the edge of the bed. "Exhausting work this healing stuff." I say as Madam Pomfrey appears.

"Episkey is not usually a spell performed on unicorns." She says, glaring at me as she uses various spells to ensure I'm in one piece. "Honestly, Albus. First years using those kinds of spells."

"Just a little tired." I say, standing up properly and step out from behind the curtains. "Ah, Lord Malfoy." I hold my hand out to Draco's father. "Always a pleasure."

"Likewise." He drawls, shaking my hand. I turn my eyes to Draco, he's got a few cuts, but nothing serious. Most likely inflicted by running through the forest without the lantern.

"If you'll excuse me." I say. "I think I've got a meeting with the Headmaster. Perhaps a flat in Diagon Alley?" I muse aloud with a smile. All in all – a quite productive evening.

* * *

 **A/N: As much as i tried not to make it seem so, i can't help but feel this one seems a little rushed? Just my proofreading of it perhaps.**

 **I'm taking into account both sides of the Metamorph debate. On the one half i think he's got a lot on his plate already, but also he could always have more.**

 **This one got a bit dark when Harry was talking with Dumbledore, but there will always be the darker side of Harry's power.**

 **Let me know what you think. Not 100% sure about this chapter, and i was nervous about how the last one would be received too. Maybe Harry is becoming detatched. Enjoy!**


	13. Chapter 13: Down the rabbit hole

Chapter 13: Down the rabbit hole

Tonight's invisible castle tour is due to the uneasy feeling that has settled into the castle, it feels wrong tonight. I'd thrown on my cloak and set off to investigate, not that I'm expecting to find anything, but it's not like I'm looking for an excuse to sneak around the castle.

After I'd gotten in after my morning run, I'd received the 5th letter inviting me to receive an award for helping Scrimgeour – Which translates to 'Come and be harassed by politicians and cameras. If it had been a polite invitation from Scrimgeor to grab a coffee sometime, I'd say yes. The last thing Albus had told me me that Jacob Nott had gotten wind that he was a suspect and started to throw significant amounts of money to appear clean. My word isn't enough to condemn a man to Azkaban, and Scrimgeor himself only saw the mask, not his face. Obviously Jacob denies any involvement at all, nobody would own up to a crime like that, not willingly or sanely anyway.

A very recent echo of Quirrell dashes right through me, I spin around to look at him. This wand is drawn and he looks agitated. A drawn wand? I look up and down the corridor; Nobody is here, so he's not assisting anyone with his wand. I shrug and follow, Might be chasing Peeves.

It doesn't take long to get to the third floor, maybe Hagrid's pet Cerberus will eat Quirrell. Albus, Snape, Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick have recently been here with – The mirror. The stone in the mirror. Very interesting. I push the door open, the harp is slowly playing, The huge dog peacefully slumbers. I watch Quirrell's echo sink through the closed hatch beneath the large paw. I slide the tip of my wand from beneath the cloak and levitate the paw off of the hatch, gently settling it down again. The heavy door lifts easier than I'd expected and the harp stop playing just as I jump through. The door slams shut above me as I cast a charm to slow my descent. It wouldn't do much good if I broke my legs or ankles now. The chute deposits me on a floor of scorched plants. The first thing that hits me is the smell; Similar to how I imagine boiled vomit would smell if you left it in a cupboard for a month. Quirrell had been coming through here in a rush and set alight to the Devil's Snare. Professor Sprout had spent weeks moving it all down here. I quickly go through the door, eager to get away from the stench. If this didn't look sinister before, it does now. The faint chattering sound grows louder as I walk through the doorway. A hundred or so key-birds fly around aimlessly in the tall room, Flitwick's room. These are the security measure for the mirror. I cross the room and fire an unlocking charm at the door, but it doesn't budge. Removing the locking ward would cause thick metal bars to slide across the door, making it impossible to pass. I turn back to the keys. A single broom sits against the wall beside me. A diversion.

"Accio ke- Old key!" I call out, changing my words part way through so to avoid every single key flying at me at once. The battered old key tries it's best attempt to resist, but gives up as it's frail wings can't do it; It falls into my hand. I turn back to the door and watch as the locking ward pulls away from the keyhole as I twist the key.

The next room, McGonagall's room, is a giant chess set; I hate chess. I'd tried to play Wizard chess with Albus, which meant I couldn't touch the pieces, I'd given up before the third game had been won by throwing my Queen out of Albus' window. Fawkes dutifully returned it. I hate chess. There is a magical tripwire that begins the game which I've yet to trip. I lean against the door and weigh my options. Quirrell had played, but each game is different, McGonagall made sure of it. I can't simply play Quirrell's game again and win. Could I blast them apart? Probably too touch to make it worth the effort and they might attack me. My cloak. I slap my hand to my face. "Idiot." I mutter, readjusting my cloak and crossing the tripwire. It hides from everything if the wearer needs it to, I'm still not sure how it knows what I want, some sort of mental link I'd guess. I slink across the chessboard and pull open the door. It is still unlocked from Quirrell's game. McGonagall is going to be so bad when she finds out she missed something, it looks like the tripwire also locks the door for the next game.

The next room greets me with the familiar smell of mountain troll. I cover my nose and dash across the putrid smelling room, not sparing the unconscious troll a second look as Echo-Quirrell hits it with a very dark red spell.

I breath heavily once I get free of the room. I've almost caught up to Quirrell thanks to the saved time from the chess game. This room houses a small table and a wall of fire. Snape boasted this logic puzzle would stop any intruder, one vial lets me pass through the fire unharmed, the others are … less useful. Luckily for me, Quirrell has already solved the puzzle not 5 minutes ago. I pick up the smallest vial, the same one Quirrell had. A flame freezing potion brewed by Snape, the vial is linked to a cauldron full of it so it can refill after the single dose is consumed. The taste isn't too bad, but it feels like ice running down my throat. I screw my eyes shut and run through the fire, I open them and release my breath – I didn't get burnt. I remove my cloak and stow it in my pocket. As I walk into the final room, I clap slowly.

"Potter." Quirrell says coolly, his arms behind his back.

"Good evening, Professor." I walk down the steps. "Odd." I say, looking around the chamber. "I was looking for the toilet and stumbled across this room, I thought I'd found it when I met the troll." I sigh dramatically.

"Cease this nonsense at once." He spits, ropes coil tightly around my body and ankles, He hadn't even used his wand. "Now be quiet, I must inspect this mirror." He turns his back to me, my scar starts to prickle, not the first time it's happened, but I can't scratch it due to my tied hands. I shimmy my feet sideways so that I just peek into the edge of the mirror. Quirrell starts to mutter whilst my reflection casually tosses a large red stone up and down, he winks at he puts it in his pocket with a mischievous grin.

"I don't understand. Is the stone inside the mirror? Must I smash it?" Quirrell shifts his weight uneasily. "I see my self … Giving the stone to my master."

"Use … the boy." A quiet voice hisses. My headache develops into a dull throb.

"Potter!" Quirrell whirls round. "Come here." I don't budge. "Potter!"

"Sir?" I ask dumbly, as if I'd been called upon in class.

"Come. Here." He says through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated.

"I'm tied up you moron." He flicks his wand angrily, levitating me in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Professor." I turn my head back to the looking glass.

"What do you see, boy?" He growls. "Tell me." He looks into the mirror too. Where is Albus tonight? Down in London if memory serves.

"I think that's Professor Sinistra, sir." I squint, trying not to smile as my reflection starts to silently howl with laughter, seeming to know what the next line is. "I think she's taking her robe off..."

"YOU DARE?!" Quirrell raises his wand.

"Let me speak to him … face to face." The other voice hisses.

"M-master." Quirrell cowls, suddenly nervous. "Y-you are not strong enoug-"

"I have strength enough …. for this..." It says. Quirrell turns his back to me and reaches, slowly unravelling his turban, only a few steps in front of me. One final twist and a grotesque face is revealed. Pale skin, red eyes and no nose, instead replaced by snake like slits in the centre of his face. My eyes water from the pain my scar is causing me. "Harry … Potter." It hisses. "Do you see what I have become? … Mere shadow and vapour, forced to … share a body with another willing to give … The unicorn blood has strengthened me, you saw Quirrell in the forest …" Ah, so it was _him_ in the forest. "Once I have the stone … I will be whole …. I can return your parents to you..." He leans closer.

"Voldemort." I say. "You … Fucking … YAH!" I head butt the stupid snake face, my forehead feels as if it's about to explode as I fall backwards onto the ground, the ropes disappear as Quirrell-Mort falls forward. I clap my left hand over my head. Quirrell begins to scream in pain, cursing angrily. The snake face is all burnt up, except for a lightning bolt shape over one eye, it remains untouched. "Nobody can come back from the dead." I say, hissing painfully as I climb to my feet, blinking heavily from my scar's pulsing. "Not the damned brothers, Not Flamel or Morgana Le Fay, but most certainly not _you._ " I stand next to the writhing body and push my bare foot on to Voldemort's face. Screaming fills the room, A little of mine, some of Quirrell's and lots of Voldemort's. The head caves in and the body bursts into ashes and smoke. Some of the smoke swirls back down and the dust coalesces in a ball – A face – it coils around the room, screaming all the way, before shooting towards the roofs, vanishing through the stone ceiling. I slump down onto the steps, blood trickles down from my scar. I didn't think I'd head butted him that hard. I pull the Philosophers Stone from my pocket.

Hundreds of years of Alchemy. So many experiments and transmutations, which is turning a metal into another. Ritual circles for any number of things using the stone, great displays of fireworks and amazing feats of healing. Water to wine. This is Nicolas Flamel's battery. A huge, almost endless magical battery. A miniature fusion reactor of magic in a stone. It's like Flamel's wand, but specifically used for alchemy. Everything he's ever done or attempted to do with the stone, Often using the stone to power transfigurations for something like building an entire house with a casual flick of his wand, or even a whole village after a natural disaster. No wonder my reflection was grinning; This stone is absolutely amazing. Centuries of wisdom and power, The Elixir of Life being made for Nicolas and Perenelle. The elixir is just blood that's been treated by the stone with a very simple ritual. I don't think that my potions exam tomorrow will be a problem, It's like the baby brother of Alchemy.

"What do I do with you?" I ask the stone. A world of possibilities. Immortality would take repeated use, and I don't really feel like stealing a philosophers stone, especially from somebody what has 600 years of experience to take it back with. "What indeed?"

* * *

 **A/N: A bit on the shorter side. A flash of the violent side of Harry once faced with the root of most of the troubles in his life and his parents killer.**

 **Could he just fix his wounds? Perhaps transform himself into who he sees in the mirror. A simple transfiguration with enough power behind it becomes permanent. Or a very cliché 'magical binding' breaker to unlock something else.**

 **If you wish to become more acquainted with my own form of alchemy, you might want to read my 'Nobody told me the rules' story. It's big and not great, but I will be explaining things in details as Harry discovers them here.**

 **As ever, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!**


	14. Chapter 14: Aftermath

Chapter 14: Aftermath

"I suppose this is what people expected of me; Stopping Dark Lords." I say to Albus after our meeting with the Heads of Houses. I explained most of the vents in detail, but as McGonagall, Snape, and Sprout were in the room, I just said that I'd seen Quirrell with his wand out and followed him. Only Flitwick and Albus know how I really found him. The others believed me after I told them I wanted to to see Peeves hit Quirrell. Albus is currently leaning over his pensieve, deep in thought after the third viewing of the memory. "Sorry for killing one of your teachers." He sighs heavily.

"It could not be avoided. I believe the Quirinus Quirrell I once knew has been gone for a while." He returns to his chair, reclining backwards into he cushioning. He retrieves the stone from his drawer and places it in the centre of his desk. "I trust that you have touched the stone?" I nod. "Did it work?"

"If I'd touched it at the beginning of the year, I think my brain would have just given up completely." I laugh mirthlessly. "But now? I'm numb."

"In what respect?"

"I've just been accosted by Voldemort, killed a man and absorbed the entire history of a 550 year old philosophers stone. I should be a little upset, or feel concerned."

"But you don't?"

"No. Well sort of. I feel sorry for Quirrell, but he did try and bisect me in the forest. I'll put it this way – I'm more concerned about my impending exams than I am about Voldemort. I think something is wrong with me. Am I in shock?"

"Possibly." He shifts forward in his chair. "Your exams then, how do you think you will do?"

"Well."

"Just well?"

"I spend just as much time in the library as Hermione, we've got out own spot and everything, so I know all of the material back to front. The first year casting has nothing on the NEWT level stuff. Part of me feels like I'm cheating, but I still have to work it all out."

"Do you feel as if you will not be challenged?"

"I don't really know." I shrug. "I don't want to start getting anxious now after being fine all month."

"I am confident that you shall perform exceptionally." He smiles.

"A busy start to a busy week." I lean back in my chair. "Am I going to be expelled? There is a rule against killing people in Hogwarts, not to mention laws too." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, no. You will remain here. Although rules were broken, I do not think they were written with possessed teachers in mind."

"So it was possession then? He looked far too composed for the sorts of possession I know of, no imperius symptoms either. Voldemort said that they were sharing the body, that doesn't explain why he exploded under my foot though." I sigh. "All that work to get the stone. He could have done it you know? Created himself a body; It holds almost endless possibilities."

"What did you learn of the stone?"

"I don't know how to make one, if that's what you're asking." I smirk, he smiles in return. "That precedes the stone's history, the actual forging process that is. I'll look into this summer, see if I can make some educated guesses. I think it's odd that there aren't more philosophers stones kicking about. I suppose you wouldn't want to advertise the fact that you have one, would you? Good way to get robbed. I suppose alchemy takes a while to really get into, or good at."

"I daresay Nicolas has had enough time to learn the ins and outs." He chuckles.

"Speaking of summer, are there houses that I can afford? Even just to rent?" His eyes widen as if suddenly remembering and he digs into a pile of papers.

"Gringotts responded just after dinner, I had forgotten due to the excitement. Only one flat was available in Diagon Alley." He continues to dig, his frown becoming more pronounced as time goes on. "The Department of Magical Child Welfare have also answered."

"That quickly? It's only been three days. Can I take the test?" The 'DMCW' are the ones that let under-age magical children live on their own, providing they pass the test.

"You will not be taking the test." He retrieves a folder from the stack.

"Why not?" I frown.

"Simply put – You are Harry Potter. They said 'yes' before I even needed to say that you are capable in my eyes."

"Idiots." I pinch the bridge of my nose. At least this works out in my favour.

"From time to time, being a notable figure has it's bonuses; Doors open that would forever remain closed to others."

"Often enough to make it all worth it?" I ask, He merely smiles and slides the folder to me. "I didn't think so." I accept the folder and open it. "'221B Diagon Alley'?" I look up at Albus. "Is this a joke?"

"A joke?" He frowns, leaning forward to see the parchment. "Gringotts assures 100% accuracy in property listings."

"And you mean to tell me that the only property they had available, in my price range, was '221B Diagon Alley'?"

"Is there something wrong with it?" He takes the folder back. "Two bedrooms with ensuites. The kitchen and living area are one conjoined space. All seems to be in order." He frowns. "Shall I ask for other options?"

"No no, It's perfect." I say quickly. "How much will it cost?"

"Gringotts has offered it to me for 160 galleons a month." I let out a low whistle. 160 multiplied by £5 is £800 a month.

"Not cheap. My trust vault had about 60,000 galleons ( £300,000 ) in before last summer, right?" He nods. "And I get 500 galleons ( £2500 ) per month that I can access?"

"That is correct. The vault became active in August last year, so you have 9 months of galleons available – Which equates to-"

"4500 galleons ( £22500 ). So the 500 a month was designed to see me through for 10 years?"

"I believe that was the contingency plan in the event that your parents did not make it through the war."

"Contingency plan?"

"I'm sure Lily would have given you almost anything you wanted and James – The things she wouldn't." His eyes twinkle as he smiles. I close my eyes and lean back in the chair. Fucking Voldemort.

"Draco told me the Potters were important in their day. Do I have to deal with that?"

"You have a few years before you will be required to."

"Required to?" I open my eyes again.

"A wizard becomes an adult at 17 years of age, as you will. In your position, the family will fall to you as the only remaining adult Potter."

"Right." I nod." That makes sense, but I could take it on early, for some bizarre reason, If I wanted to?" Albus nods. "Who's in charge now? Gringotts? Is it all frozen?"

"James, as the last Head of the family, created a list of trusted parties to be his successor, until you were of age, to become the Regent – A temporary head."

"Who was on the list?" I lean forward.

"At the very top was, of course, Sirius Black. They were all but brothers, but due to his unlawful incarceration, he could not take up the post."

"Unlawful? How?"

"Sirius never had a trial." He says triumphantly. I hit my forehead against his desk.

"Why even have law enforcement if they don't do t heir jobs?"

"It was war time."

"Right right." I sit back up, waving my hand dismissively. "So this might be a way to bust him out; by getting him retried, or tried at all." I nod slowly. The plan holds merit. "Who else was on the list?"

"Peter Pettigrew, but he is deceased."

"Wasn't Lily included?"

"Ah, forgive me. This was a plan for if they both were to pass away, as it was unlikely that only one of them were to fall without the other." He says gravely. "The estate would have passed to Lily if only James were to have passed; This would have upset some parties."

"Like Lucius Malfoy?" I smirk. "No, I can't imagine he'd have liked that one bit."

"Indeed." He says. "The next name on the list, much to my protest, is my own."

"Which is how you organised all of this?" I tap of the folder, he smiles and nods.

"Exactly."

"Why didn't you want to be listed as a potential Regent?"

"If all of the boys had been killed, I didn't want to be seen as the old man stealing all the money." He chuckles.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." I grin. "So, I'm not going to be punished for tonight?"

"Beyond a stern 'Don't be out after curfew', I think not." He smiles. "If what you have said is true, you have saved us all, once again, from Voldemort."

"All in day's work." I sigh. "Everyone will know by tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Not if you don't tell them." He says, I can't help but snort indignantly.

"Snape has probably told his house, so everybody will know soon enough. It's how things work here; Just another thing to add to my resumé I guess. Could you buy the flat then? I like the idea of having my own place to live."

"I shall write to them in the morning."

"Thanks. I'll head off now; Fighting undead Dark Lords takes it's toll." I stand up and turn to the door. "And don't think we won't be having a long conversation about that undead part."

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

The conversations at breakfast the next day are mostly focussed on the oncoming exams, but some are speculating about Albus' announcement in regards to Professor Quirrell's sudden departure.

"What do you reckon happened to him?" Tonks asks me.

"Maybe he caught sight of his shadow?" I shrug. "He seemed a bit jumpy."

"A bit?" She snorts. "I think the sound of his own voice scared 'im." She turns and looks up at the staff table. "Was never any good anyway." She turns back to me. "Nervous?"

"Nah." I laugh. "No reason to. I'm only in my first year, 5th and 7th are the ones to be worried about, but don't worry – You'll do fine."

"Me?"

"You're the nervous one here." My eye flick up to her hair. "Your hair is dark blue, and even if nobody but the two of us knows that's not good, it doesn't change that you're nervous." I smile as she pouts.

"I hate it when it does that." She shakes her head, settling for a purple colour. "Better?" She asks.

"Some say a fake smile can evolve into a real smile." She groans loudly, rolling her eyes.

"You spend too much time with Dumbledore." She says. "You're starting to talk like him."

"If I ever start talking entirely in proverbs, I need you to give me a good slap." She laughs and nods. "But seriously, you'll do fine this week. You set your mind on something and you'll stop at nothing to get it. You've wanted to be an Auror forever, right? I don't think some stupid NEWT test will stop you. And besides, if you fail, you can always work in the Three Broomsticks, pouring drinks over the patrons." I grin.

"Thank you for your unwavering support." She says dryly.

"You'll be fine. I'm sure there are self serving drinks that can't be spilt."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay, i'm not going to have as much time to write now September is here, but i will keep trying - I feel like i've burnt out a little bit.**

 **This chapter was designed to stray away from Quirrell to reflect Harry's absent mindedness and partial disassociation. It will all be whipped back into place in time.**

 **A few people said that Harry's interactions with the Aurors were Sherlock-like, so i picked this address for him to live in.**

 **Feedback is greatly appreciated and until next time - Enjoy.**


	15. Chapter 15: The Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 15: The Prisoner of Azkaban

History of magic, the final exam, is mostly remembering dates in the first year. Invasions and when a few laws were introduced. It did ask for an opinion here and there to make sure we understand the topics, it was fairly simple and a nice way to ease out of the exams. We waited patiently for our test papers to be collected, by hand, and they just let us out. The past week has been a mixture of nervousness and joy for most students – The exams and that the end of the school year is almost upon us. The sadder side of it is that the seventh years will be leaving us. Tonks is waiting just down the corridor from the exam room.

"How'd it go?" She asks as I seat on the stone bench beside her.

"Alright I guess. Goblins fighting, what colour panties Rowena Ravenclaw wore – Basic stuff.

"And what colour were they?" She drags me to my feet. "Come on, I'm starving."

"A trick question – She didn't wear any." Tonks laughs loudly as we walk. "How about you? All done?"

"Yep." She grins. "It all went pretty well."

"Even potions?" I ask sceptically.

"I wouldn't put it past Snape to give my coursework an 'EE' just to throw a wrench in things."

"I think anyone that doesn't melt their cauldron exceeds Snape's expectations of them. External go ok?"

"Better than I thought. Suppose the Great Bat wasn't breathing down my neck in there."

"I think that's enough to turn a potion sour." I wrinkle my nose. "Suppose all we can do is wait for the results now."

"One more week 'til we're free." She cheers, almost tripping over.

There's that sinking feeling in my stomach again. Next year means no more Tonks. I'd been lying on Albus' carpet when I spoke to him about it. He had smiled as he caught my eye, telling me it spoke volumes about my character by how quickly, and strongly, I had become attached to her. This, of course, hadn't helped my mood at all. It's not going to be easy without her.

"... Just wait 'til you're in your seventh year, You'll be just as stressed out." She pushes me lightly.

"You're probably right." I laugh. "Still a few years off though. Maybe old Snape won't be here any more."

"You wish." She snorts.

We round the corner into the Great Hall, everyone seems a bit more relaxed now that the hard part is over. Relief is a good word to describe it. We sit at the Hufflepuff table, Tonks sits in her customary place opposite me.

"Is that the first years finished now?" Cedric asks me.

"Yep, You finished yesterday, right?" I ask, he nods happily.

"Now we wait." He says jokingly.

"Where's the paper, Ced?" Tonks asks, frowning as she looks around the hall.

"Non have arrived yet." He explains. "Dumbledore isn't here either. Some of the others were saying that's a sign." I points his thumb over his shoulder. "I don't think the Prophet ever being this late."

"Which means something heavy has happened." I adopt a frown myself.

"Reckon he's ok?" Tonks turns faces me. Two wars and he's still kicking, he's fine.

"I-" The sudden flock of subscription owls interrupt me. "Well timed." I comment as an owl curls down and lands near Tonks. She retrieves the paper and her jaw drops. "Something wrong?" Only her eyes move. "Tonks?" She blinks and shakily gives me the paper.

'SIRIUS BLACK – INNOCENT' is printed in thick letters. I bite my lip as I smile, looking up at Tonks.

"He's done it." The grin cracks over my face. It only took 10 months, but he did it. I quickly climb to my feet, shouldering my bag as the rest of the article pushes into my head. Absolved of all crimes just this morning. I'm only vaguely aware that everyone is looking at me.

"Harry?" Tonks.

"Fuck. Yes!" I say through the gritted teeth of my smile, a lot louder than necessary. I punch the air above me, jumping slightly.

"Mister Potter!" McGonagall scolds me from the entrance.

"Professor McGonagall!" I quickly jog past her, breaking into a sprint as I turn the corner and head for Albus' office. I dash past groups of students and almost run straight through Binns, managing to avoid him at the last possible moment. I make it to the gargoyle easily thanks to my morning runs. "Open Sesame?" Much to my surprise, it slides away, allowing me to ascend the staircase. I take a moment to catch my breath before knocking on the door.

"Come in, Harry." Albus' voice comes muffled through the door. I twist the door handle and push the door open, Nothing noteable has passed through here recently.

Three men currently stand in the large oval space. Albus is the closest to me, Fudge stands just to his left.

"Minister, always a pleasure." I say politely. "I just saw the Prophet." I smile at Albus. He smiles back as I turn to the only other person in the room. "And this dirty tramp must be Mr. Black." His hair is overgrown along with his beard, cracked fingernails caked with dirt complete the look. His clothes are not the prison rages I'd been expecting, but a black leather jacket, blue jeans and heavy boots. As if he'd ridden a motorbike here from the 70's. This might've been what he was wearing when he was arrested. He lets out a raspy laugh.

"Just Sirius." He clears his throat a couple of times. "My hygiene has dropped a bit." He pushes the lank, greasy hair behind his ears. "I look like Sniv-" He let's out a nasty hacking cough. I raise my eyebrow at Albus.

"I'd hug you or something, but I can smell you from here." I say, extending my hand towards him. This is all eerily formal.

"Understandable." He laughs gruffly as he takes my hand. Cold. I tear my hand back and ball it into a fist, massaging it with my other. "You have spent _far_ too much time around dementors." I look down at my hand and flex it experimentally.

"Uh, Yes. Terrible mishap." Fudge pipes up. "I can assure you that the Ministry takes full responsibility and you will be compensated." He says firmly. Quite how anyone could be compensated for being is Azkaban for a decade, I don't know. "A full investigation will be launched as soon as possible."

"Perhaps if you were to start now, more would get done?" I suggest, trying not to sound as rude as I'd like to be. "Being seen as proactive instead of reactive?"

"Right you are, my boy." Fudge smiles at me. "Dumbledore, Mr. Black." He inclines his head and hastily exits through the floo. I've not met him many times, but I've seen hiim talk with Albus a lot. I don't really like him. "You did it!" I turn to Albus." Albus, you're a genius! How?"

"The Minister was against the idea of questioning Sirius, I said that if he was so sure of his guilt, then using veritaserum would prove it."

"Veritaserum. Of course." I slap my forehead. I can't help but get caught up in the excitement. "All it takes is a few drops. Maybe if they'd have done it when they should have." I scratch my chin, maybe I shouldn't mention his time in Azkaban so easily.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Sirius rubs his eyes. "If I'd have been the fucking secret keeper, or not chased Peter." His tears spill into his beard. I look at Albus helplessly. "Have you found Peter?"

"Found him?" Albus asks. "My boy, he is assumed dead. To your wand, no less." Sirius mutters something I can't quite hear as he leans against the wall.

"After the bastard blew up the street, he scampered off without his finger." He clears his throat again. "The Aurors responded to my call and I was arrested. Peter is still alive. I guarantee it."

"He's alive?" I look between the two of them, sinking into my chair. "Wouldn't someone have found, or at least seen, him? Unless he was some master of disguise." Tonks could hide … for all of 10 minutes before she trips over. "Animagus." It suddenly hits me. "The four of you. Nobody would suspect it. Wormtail, right?" I wrack my brain trying to remember what his form was, screwing my eyes shut. "The rat." I look up at Sirius' shocked face. "It would be impossible to find him, especially now. He probably fled the country that night, or it could be Weasley's bloody rat for all we know." I sigh heavily and retrieve my Rubik's cube from my bag, deftly manipulating it.

"How did you know?" Sirius asks. Albus sits opposite me in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Nobody could-" He stops as Albus raises his hand.

"How do you find one rat on the whole planet?" I ask rhetorically. "In a world of rats." I should get a 4x4 or 5x5 cube. "Do have some place to live, Sirius?"

"Err, I will do, yes. Why?"

"I was going to offer you my spare room otherwise." I say absently. "I've solved that 2000 times now." I place the cube on his desk. "A world of rats." I look up at Albus. "If only one could follow the trails."

"Could it be done?" He leans forward.

"It would take years, Albus. A decade of whispers to follow." I shake my head. "Even at twice his pace, it'd take 5 years still."

"Another dead end." He sighs, leaning backwards. Sirius is listening intently.

"So they plucked you straight out, tried you then brought you here?"

"We stopped for fish and chips." Sirius says with a smile, buried somewhere under the hair.

"Shouldn't you go to St. Mungos?" He waves his hand dismissively.

"It can wait." He says gruffly.

"You have two broken fingers. At least." I tell him, turning back to Albus. "Can you track an animagus? There can't be too many scampering around." He says nothing for a while.

"There _are_ spells to force the animal-to-human transformation, but identifying an animal as a disguised witch or wizard is not possible."

"Which is why there is the Ministry register." I nod slowly. "How did you and James get away with it?" I ask Sirius, a smile spreading over my face.

"The Corps never asked." He says innocently, but the grin says more.

"Brilliant." I laugh, retrieving my cube. "Might wanna register now though, So you don't get thrown back in the slammer."

"I'll mention it tomorrow. Due a mental exam in the morning."

"Well, We've all finished out exams now, so you're in season for it."

"Fudge mentioned it was June." He nods.

"11th '91" I supply.

"Almost 10 bloody years." He shakes his head. "No point in moping, I'm out now." He smiles oddly, as if his face has forgotten how to.

"I really think you should celebrate with a shower, and maybe shave that awful beard, It doesn't really compare to Albus'." Sirius starts to laugh and eventually start coughing.

"Many hours spent finely maintaining my own." Albus smiles as he strokes his long, braided beard.

"A hot shower sounds wonderful." Sirius adopts a dreamy smile.

"We can't offer you lodging here, of course, but I'm sure Tom would have a room spare in the Leaky Cauldron." Albus stands up and gestures to the pot of floo powder.

"And a night's sleep in a real bed." Sirius picks a handful of floo powder and turns back to me. "Could I see you over the summer? I feel like we've got some catching up to do." He looks sad again, it's hard to tell with all the hair.

"Of course. 221B Diagon Alley. Don't forget, Padfoot." I grin at his stunned face as I back away to the door.

* * *

 **A/N: Here we go, a bit of good news before the summer. I was thinking of having Sirius live in the other room, or maybe Tonks, she was the original idea for it.**

 **Harry's Animagus form? He has to be one, obviously, but what could it be?**

 **Thoughts and suggestions appreciated - Enjoy!**


	16. Chapter 16: First Year Close

Chapter 16: First year close

"So that's it then? Hogwarts?" Tonks lets out a triumphant sigh as we settle into our compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione is, of course, engrossed in a book already. Tonks sits beside her with her feet up next to me.

"For you at least." I say as I bring my legs up and cross them.

"Six more for us." Hermione adds absently.

We received our results a few days ago. Tonks had done a celebratory dance which had ended abruptly when she tripped over. She is now more than qualified to begin her training as an Auror, which she will be doing come August first.

"Alright, Harry?" Tonks asks me as she unwraps a chocolate frog.

"Just thinking." I say, closing my eyes.

Having been brought up mostly by the Dursleys, I never thought I would have anyone care about me. The first time I met Albus completely threw that on its head. And now, after all this time, the fact I care so much about somebody else feels alien. It's not like Tonks is going anywhere, it just feels that way. Next year is going to be difficult. Hermione will still be here, of course, as will Albus, but I can't exactly string them along to check out a weird painting at 2AM. She won't have much free time once here training starts, None at all really, maybe if I -

"Tonks." I say, opening my eyes. She looks at me expectantly. "How do you suppose your Mum is going to be when you're in training?" Her face drops into a scowl.

"She'll probably insist on making sure I'm not hurt every night, I love her to bits, but she can be a bit intense." She sighs. "Why'd you ask?"

"I might happen to have a spare room in my flat in a week or so." I say casually. I offered to let Sirius stay there whilst he is recovering. He was hesitant at first, but after thinking about it, he changed his mind. 'Not fit for a cockroach' He had said. He's been there for a couple of days now he is free from St Mungos. Albus had told me that Sirius had said he wouldn't stay more than a fortnight, something about facing his demons.

"Really? You mean it? Seriously?" She looks surprised, but also excited.

"Give Sirius a while to get his shit together, then he'll go home. After that, it's all yours." I smile and shrug. She starts to almost bounce on the bench. It might be a bit selfish of me, but we don't have to part quite so suddenly. She jumps over to my side of the compartment and wraps her arms around me.

"You're the best!" She kisses my cheek and squeezes me as tightly as she can.

"Is that a good idea?" Hermione asks, looking up from her book.

"Whad'ya mean?" Tonks asks, wrapping her arms around me possessively. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Is the two of you, and only you, being in a flat together for any length of time a good idea?" Tonks looks down at me and grins.

"It's a brilliant idea."

"What could go wrong?" I add as Tonks returns to crushing my ribcage.

* * *

"Sirius not meeting you here?" Tonks asks as we step off the train. I shake my head.

"Too many people here." I explain. "Let's say that one of them hasn't heard the news, or doesn't care – They might attack him."

"Sirius Black kidnapping Harry Potter." Tonks laughs.

"Exactly. It would quickly dissolve into chaos." I look around at the reunited families. Fucking Voldemort.

"That was a dark look." Tonks says as we push through the crowd. "Wanna tell me what it was?" Read me like a book.

"Fucking Voldemort." I explain, seeing her smirk from the corner of my eye.

"Fucking Voldemort." She agrees as we manage to get to the other side of the platform. "Right." She says, pulling me into a tight hug. "To save us both the embarrassment of meeting my parents, I'll head out now."

"I'm gonna miss you." I wrap my arms around her too.

"It's only a couple of weeks." She says, pulling away. Her left sleeve makes contact with my hands – The designated 'tear drying' sleeve. She'd been crying just before breakfast.

"Come on, don't look so glum. I'll kick Sirius out if you decide to come earlier."

"Alright." She smiles at me affectionately. "See you later then?" I nod and watch as she backs through the platform's wall, or attempts to do so, her elbow smacks against the wall. The last thing I see is red hair as she vanishes, holding her arm. I sigh heavily: It's going to be a long- Somebody taps my shoulder.

"Draco." I say before turning around. Oh, great. "Lord Malfoy, it's been a while."

Standing side by side behind Draco are his parents. If I wasn't under such close scrutiny, I'd glare at the stupid prick. I shake the proffered hand. A wedding ring, to which his wife wears the partner. A portkey ring that he's rarely taken off since he purchased 14 years ago when he was 23. The last ring is the Malfoy Lordship signet. 20 years old, created magically on his 17th birthday. Should eleven year olds be shaking hands? "I think Draco and I had just been attacked by a masked lunatic when last we met." He nods slowly.

"Narcissa and I would like to thank you for … distracting it." His smile seems almost forced. "And to meet one of our son's friends." He adds after a look from his wife. I quickly shoot Draco a dirty look before they turn back. "Come along, Draco." The boy in question gives me a wave and follows on, leaving Narcissa with me. I give her a once over whilst she isn't looking. Tonks' aunt. Solid genes.

"Lucius would never say it, but we both know that you are responsible for keeping our son out of trouble. His letters explain as much."

"Trouble?" Silly me for hoping this would be a simple 'Hello Mr and Mrs Malfoy, goodbye.'.

"With students of certain … heritage." Her eyes widen almost imperceptibility, as if she didn't mean to say that.

Draco had been hurling insults at some muggleborns and they were going to jinx him, I'd resolved it peacefully by telling them he was a worthless flobberworm and wasn't worth it. That did the trick.

"I suppose I couldn't just stand and watch, even if he did deserve it." I shrug. She nods slightly, looking relieved, and turns to catch up with her family. I hate politics. Readjusting my grip on my bag, I exit through the faux wall. The regular people walk busily up and down, seeming to not care in the slightest about the oddly dressed people lugging trunks and animals around. It is London after all.

* * *

After travelling through London, I finally reach Diagon Alley. It's as busy as the last time I was here, not much change from any other day – People pushing and shoving to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. I join the fray and quickly make my way into a side street just past Gringotts.

They were kind enough to send me instructions on how to find and access my flat. The doors along this street each have 2 door handles, one on either side. Supposedly each handle opens the door into a different space. The doors don't adhere to any linear numbering system, the road started at 17 and the second door was 80. I soon find the large black door pictured in the letter. The two handles are labelled '221A' and '221B'. Gringotts issue 'blank keys' for the flats along here, which look remarkably similar to uncut muggle door keys. I'd almost expected an ancient cast-iron key. The key doesn't actually open the door, but lets the holder open it. I twist the left handle and push the door inwards. Sirius has already come and gone many times. I close the door behind me. A staircase leads upwards from the door and a line of coat hooks are attached to the right-hand side of the wall. Sirius' black leather jacket, a gift from James on his 19th birthday, and the only other hook being used sports a dark green scarf. I reach my hand out to inspect it.

"That bastard." I laugh. The scarf belongs to Roseanne Abbot, a nurse from St Mungos. I ascend the stairs and confirm my suspicions – Sirius has a woman here. I open the door into the flat.

It's bigger in person. The main space houses a large sofa and a plush red armchair. The carpet starts at my feet and ends as it reaches the kitchen, black and white square tiles are lain down. The carpet matches the walls with a neutral cream colour. The kitchen itself is modern looking, for wizards anyway, with an oven topped with hob rings, probably run on magic. I drop my bag on the sofa.

"Sirius!" I call out, dropping onto the armchair and picking up the Daily Prophet. "I'm home. I do hope I'm not interrupting." I look up as the closed bedroom door opens, Sirius slides out of the small gap and closes it carefully. He's yet to button his shirt up.

"Harry!" He smiles. "I thought you wouldn't be back for a while."

"Maybe the train has sped up since your day." I smirk, pretending to read the old paper again. "I see that you've made yourself at home. Along with Roseanne. I think her niece is in my year."

"How did you-"

"Sirius?" A sleepy voice comes from the bedroom doorway. Sirius whirls around and we both look at Roseanne. She has, at least, put clothes on before she opened the door. "Who are you talking to?" She rubs her eyes sleepily.

"Uh." Sirius looks between the two of use. "Harry, This is Rosey – A er friend of mine."

"This is Harry?" She asks quietly.

"So, you're a nurse?" I ask, carefully concealing my grin behind the paper. "This is an odd sort of house call."

"House call … right." She says, glaring at Sirius as she picks up her handbag. "It was nice meeting you, Harry." She says quickly as she walks down the stairs.

"Rosey! Wait!" Sirius makes it to the top of the stairs as the door closes. I walk to his side and we stare down the stairway. "You couldn't have been a bit more subtle?" He moans.

"This was the subtle route." I smirk, slapping his bare stomach with the back of my hand. "I see they've put you back together." I walk back into the flat to inspect the kitchen.

"Cost a pretty penny too." He sighs, leaning against the worktop. "How'd you know I had someone here?"

"Her scarf was downstairs." I explain. "Enjoying your freedom I see." He looks healthy and happy. Far better than when I'd first met him.

"Good, Brilliant actually." He takes a deep breath. "Better than I've felt in years, no matter how clichéd it sounds." He laughs. "But enough of that, Tell me about your first year. Dumbledore said there were some incidents."

* * *

The second day of being home, I explain my ability to Sirius, it takes a while and he needed some demonstrations, but he understands for the most part. We are now situated opposite each other, Sirius on the sofa whilst I recline in the armchair.

"So where you sit on the toilet ..." He says leadingly. I smack my hand to my forehead.

"Yes, Sirius. I know everyone that's ever sat on the John."

"So like ..."

"No, I do not frequent the girls toilets." I pinch the bridge of my nose."

"Right, right." He leans back on the sofa. "And wands? You are like a long-term back tracer?"

"Exactly."

"And you've managed to avoid touching all but Lily and James' wands?"

"And my own."

"And your own." He nods. "So you figured out Peter was the keeper from that?"

"His name was in the spell." I nod.

"Clear as day over a decade later?"

"Yep."

"All the spells they ever cast?" He asks. "Even the ah 'personal' ones?"

"Before you ask directly, I will not be discussing their sex life with you of all people." He starts to laugh.

"Ok, ok." he tries to get himself under control. "So if you grab a bird's wand, you know what they've done … down there?"

"Jesus." He break down laughing. "You've been locked up too long." I stand up. "Go and find Roseanne or something, I'm going out."

"Wait!" He calls out as I head down the stairs. "Harry, Come back!" He says as he howls with laughter.

* * *

 **A/N: So here it is. Taken a bit longer than i'd have liked, sorry!**

 **I've been trying to decide a few things about the story. Harry's character can go a few way. Part of me wants to write him like Artemis Fowl, but i don't think that would fit. Harry's a smart kid, but he's not that high level of genius, it's his special ability that sets him apart. Another way he could go is to be like Tonks or Sirius, a much more fun loving and outgoing character, let me knwo your thoughts on it all.**

 **I don't really know if i can continue the story from here. I've got a few loose ideas for his next two years of schooling, but without the whole Prisoner of Azkaban thing ( Because Sirius is free ) I don't really think i can fill two more years of story. The reason it's two yers is because my ideas pick up again for his fourth year, i've got plenty of plot for that year.**

 **Thoughts and suggestions are, as ever, greatly appreciated. Until next time, Enjoy!**


	17. Chapter 17: Animagusgusgus

**A/N: This chapter is brought to you by my TWSBI Eco 3**

* * *

Chapter 17: Animagusgusgus

"You're sure this will work?" I eye the bottle of green liquid warily.

"Of course!" Sirius nods eagerly. "Why wouldn't it?" I look up at him.

"You've just handed me a bottle, claiming it's the 'Marauders approved' Animagus potion. Somehow that particular seal of quality doesn't fill me with confidence."

Currently sitting cross legged on my living room floor with me, Sirius decided to 'help' with my 'Animagus journey' as he'd named it.

"It worked for us fine." He says defensively.

"How long has it been since you made this?" I ask him, tilting the bottle and watching the thick sludge move slightly.

"15 years or so?" He scrunches his face up before waving his hand dismissively. "It'll be fine." He says enthusiastically.

"If this is a prank, I swear I'll take you to a shady muggle vet and get you fixed." I take a deep breath, pinching my nose and downing the potion. "Urgh." I cough and drop the bottle. I screw my eyes shut as my ears start to ring. My vision goes blurry as i fall onto my back, gasping for air. Images flicker into my head similar to when I touch something with a colourful history. A forest rushing past me. A lake in a clearing. It feels like a dream as my sight is pulled away from my eyes, looking on in third person.

"...ry. Harry!" Sirius shakes me roughly. "Up you get." He helps me sit up. The living room comes back into focus as he pushes my glasses back on. I blink rapidly, leaning my back against the sofa as I try and get my breathing under control.

"Sirius?"

"Harry?"

"I hate you." He laughs at me. I tilt my head back onto the sofa cushion.

"Well, What did you get?" He asks, sounding excited.

"It was big. Teeth. Fur. A bear? No, no. Not the right shape. Paws, but sleeker. Big, but not found. Not a fox. A wolf?" I swallow heavily. It was so surreal.

"A wolf!" Sirius jumps to his feet. "I wonder if you'll be bigger than Moony." He paces around. "Moony! He can help you with the form, I can teach you the method of course. It's a good thing you can use your wand here." He continues to talk to himself for a while.

"Wand?" I ask, climbing onto the sofa. That was exhausting.

"Hmm? Oh yeah. The first change you learn with your wand, after that it's easy. You just sort of focus on your animalistic side." He shakes his head. "I'm getting ahead of myself – You've still got a lot of work to do."

"If James could do it, I can do it." I shake my head dizzily.

"He wasn't the brightest, but you don't-"

"Not that, you idiot." I laugh, retrieving my wand. "I mean that he could do it, so I can do it." His eyes widen considerably.

"You mean...?"

"It's all up here." I tap my finger on my head. "Luckily my transfiguration is up to scratch." How to become an animagus in 5 minutes. I screw my eyes shut and focus on the dream. "Here goes..."

The air is sucked out of my lungs and the horrible feeling of spinning, much like a portkey, sets into my body. An intense pain blossoms through my body as every bone snaps into it's new configuration. I try and blink or move, but my brain hasn't quite caught up yet. A light appears in front of me, an odd sort of familiarity about it. Not fire, but not electrical either. It's like this was always here, but asleep somehow. I suddenly jolt up. Sirius is looking at me, slack jawed. The angle is wrong, he's either grown or … I did it! A bark escapes my mouth. My mouth! I testily open and close my new jaw, lifting my hand to my face. My new paw! Black fur, I rotate it slowly. I look back at Sirius. Damn the lack of mirrors. I jump of the sofa, it all feels so natural. I run across the room.

"Hey!" I hear Sirius behind me. I dart through my partially open door and into the en suite. I perch my front paws on the sink's edge so I can see myself in the mirror. A big black wolf, green eyes and a white streak across my right eye. The bloody lightning bolt scar. I'd heard that markings on the human body would effect the appearance of ones animagus – I guess I'm never hiding this scar. I run back through into the living room, tripping Sirius over and spinning back into myself on the carpet.

"I did it!" I laugh triumphantly, lying on my back, panting heavily. I rub my hands on the carpet and the customary information flows back into my head. "Sirius! I can't feel anything when I transformed. It doesn't work – It's silent."

"Am I interrupting something?" I tilt my head forwards.

"Tonks!" I grin, climbing to my feet. I'd sent her a key a couple of days ago, perhaps I foolishly thought she'd knock anyway. She drops her rucksack and hugs me tightly.

"Where's your shirt, Harry?" She smirks at me. "And what didn't work?" I look between Sirius and Tonks.

"Tonks … I've got a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

Tonks had initially been upset that I hadn't told her sooner, but quickly became enthralled in the story of how I'd helped Scrimgeour, with all the details this time. Sirius had started to pack up his stuff when I started explaining the whole animagus thing.

"I'll have to go and register of course." I say as Sirius drags the trunk out of his room. "Yu'd probably end up arresting me in a couple of years anyway." Tonks smirks at this.

"Ok, that's the last of it." Sirius says dramatically. "I'll head off now, hopefully my house won't kill me when I get there." He laughs drly.

"Thanks for the potion." I say, hugging him. "And if it looks evil, fr God's sake – Don't touch it." He laughs.

"I'll find Mooney and get him to help clean the place up, my save me a finger or two." He grins. "Oh, and best keep the potion method to yourself. Strictly speaking it should take months of work even before you know your form." He winks at me. "If I was a responsible adult, I'd know better than to leave you two here alone."

"Just leave, you old perv." I say, pushing him towards the door.

"Alright, alright!" He laughs, letting his trunk fall down the stairs. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He calls.

"You put up with him for a whole week?" Tonks smirks.

"He's not so bad." I shrug. "Between the dirty jokes, moping and bringing women home at two in the morning – He made for good company." I yawn sleepily. "Make yourself at home, I'm going to bed now." She nods and I head for my room.

"Wait a sec, This touching thing you do."

"What about it?"

"If I gave you my wand, would you know about all the below the belt stuff?" She grins lecherously.

"Goodnight, Tonks." I close my door as she starts to laugh.

* * *

"Tonks." I knock on her door. "I'm going to register, you coming?" A negative sounding groan. "Alright then." I turn and leave the flat.

Now July 10th, about a week since I became an animagus, I've decided to take the dive and register it. Part of me wants to keep this talent a secret, but a 10 year Azkaban sentence is attached to being found out and as my best friend is going to become an Auror, I don't think it'll work out well. I'd prefer not to have Azkaban staining my soul.

The Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley is severely lacking in the non-magical creature department. They have extensive tomes of all kinds of magical creature, but apparently normal animals are too mundane for them. This means I had to go into the normal parts of London to try and figure out what my form is exactly. I don't fit the look of a gray wolf, and I'm way too big to be any other kind of wolf I'd found. When I'd attempted to explain scientific animal classifications to Tonks, she'd instructed me to stop 'being an egghead' and enjoy being a giant wolf. One of the best perks is the complete cut-off from my abilities – No touching and no whispers. Sleeping as a wolf is infinitely better because of it.

"Morning, Mister Potter." I blink. My feet, or my stomach, has carried me to the bar of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Mornin', Tom. A couple of bacon sandwiches please." I fish a galleon out of my pocket and he already has 7 sickles of change waiting.

"Coming right up." He smiles. I turn and survey the room, spotting a suitably secluded table in a corner. Although I've resigned to the 'smile and wave' technique when it comes to well wishers, I don't want them interrupting my breakfast.

"Here we are." Tom switches the dirty plate that was here for my order. "Looks like you've had a growth spurt." He comments. Being half-adolescent wolf has had very welcome changes to my human side. I suppose the transformation works both ways.

"Good food I guess." I smirk.

"Must be." He winks. "Enjoy." He heads back to the kitchen, a stack of plates floating behind him.

* * *

"Please state your name and business." The telephone box asks politely after I dial '62442'.

"Uh, Harry Potter. Here to register as an Animagus." I state clearly. Nothing happens. Should I have used the phone? A slot clicks open and a badge drops down.

'Harry Potter. Illegal Animagus' is embossed onto the metal. Very subtle. I watch the street ascend as I fasten the badge to my t-shirt. The Ministry Atrium slides into view as I'm lowered. It's much more grand in person. The cliché of 'people of all shapes and sizes' really fits here. Some of these people are the same height as Flitwick – Either a Goblin or partly a Goblin. The great green tiled arches loom over the enormous space.

"Watch where you're going!" A man scolds me as he bumps into me.

"Sorry." I mutter. Maybe if I'd not been dropped into a moving crowd, this wouldn't have happened.

I take off in a brisk walk, eager to be free of the river of people. I flatten my hair over my forehead – If anyone gets a glimpse of the scar, this will quickly become impossible to navigate. I break free of the swarm and find the oval space that houses the many lifts. I enter an empty one and look at the multitude of buttons. Somebody else comes in.

"Lost?" He asks.

"I'm looking for the Animagus Registry Office."

"Three across, Five down." He says, I hear him take a sip of his drink. Coffee.

"Thanks." I glance over my shoulder. I double take. It's Scrimgeor. "I didn't recognise you, sir. You look a lot better when your organs aren't being melted." He looks amused.

"Thank you, Mister Potter." His eyes flick down to my badge.

"Oh yeah." I look down. "Only one week. That's why I'm here – To scrub the 'Illegal' part off." He frowns.

"You have completed the transformation?"

"Yessir." I smile. "There's not really enough room here, but you're welcome to join me as I register." He stares at me for a while.

"I shall." The door slides open. "This way." He glides out of the lift, I have to walk quickly to keep up with his gait. "I apologize for not thanking you in person." He ducks to avoid some low flying papers. "We have a minimum height for a reason!" He barks at them.

"I figured you were busy trying to get the charges to stick on Nott." He says nothing and drains his mug.

"You will need to relinquish your wand during the aptitude test. To ensure you are not cheating if I recall correctly." He holds a door open for me.

The Animagus Registry Office task force consists entirely of one old, overweight man, currently sleeping at his desk. A single filing cabinet in one corner and a potted plant that looks like it's seen better days.

"Reginald." Scrimgeour shoves the man's feet off the desk.

"Bwah?" Reginald rubs his eyes sleepily. "Oh. Piss off, Rufus."

"You don't get paid to sleep." Scrimgeor sets his mug down.

"Tell that to accounting!" Reginald laughs obnoxiously. "Hah!" He seems happy with his joke. He sort of looks like a worn out Santa Claus. "What can I do you for?"

"Mister Potter" Scrimgeor points at me. "Is here to register."

"For what?" Reginald peers over his desk at me, frowning. "An animagus?" His face shifts as he seems to remember his job. He grudgingly hefts himself off the strained chair and he opens the top drawer of the cabinet. "Animagus Registry form .. Last revision 1893 … All set!" He slumps back into the chair. A quill comes to life from his desk and poises itself over the form. "Harry James Potter. Age ..."

"Eleven."

"Eleven. Birthday..."

"July 31st. 1980." I look at Scrimgeor, he seems to be enjoying himself.

"Dum dee dum." Reginald scratches his beard. "July 10th – New entry." He looks away from the quill and back to me. "Well, kid. This is pretty simple, just a few tests. Show me what you've got, Animagus." I set my wand down on his desk and transform into the wolf. He looks incredibly surprised. "Merlin! A real one!" He jumps out of his chair, a feat I'd have thought impossible. He paces around me, eyeing me intensely. "Initial assessment: A large black wolf." His quill dutifully writes. "Very large, jet black fur. Identifying features: Green eyes. A white, jagged streak across the right eye – Possibly the scar from the human body. Heavy scaring on the back along with the hind legs. No effect on fur density, well hidden. Thick fur coverage, especially around the neck." He scratches his beard again. "But what are you?" I spin back into a human.

"I think I'm too large for-"

"Lupus." He nods. "Note: Not Canis Lupus. Canis Rufus also not fitting. Again, please." I transform again. "Lupus Lupus and Lupus Dingo snouts are not a match." He draws his wand and mutters a few spells. "Yes, yes." He mumbles. "High bone density. 106CM shoulder height. 200, perhaps 220lbs. Teeth." I open my mouth. "My my." He turns and plucks the quill form the air to write some words manually for a couple of minutes. "Canis Dirus." He says. "The Dire Wolf."

"A dire wolf?"I ask as I become human again. "I didn't see any reference to a 'Dirus' in my search."

"They're extinct." Reginald says happily. "You're the lucky bugger that managed to get one."

"The paperwork, Reginald." Scrimgeor reminds the man.

"Hmm? Oh, yes." He hands me the quill. "Sign at the bottom." I do. "Congrats, kid. Nobody's been thick enough to register in years."

"Reginald." Scrimgeor sighs.

* * *

"I apologize for Reginald." Scrimgeor says as we get back in the lift. "He is extremely knowledgeable in his field, many animals are known to him. He is perhaps unparalleled in his field, but there isn't much call for his services."

"I don't think we'd be finished yet if you'd not been there." I laugh. "Oh, If you ever need help with anything like Nott again, I live at 221B in Diagon Alley, or pull me out of school, I'll be glad to help."

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

 **A/N: And there we have it, a wolf! He's big and it's also altered his human body as his human body altered the wolf. Let's say it's aged him a year or so for the time being. The big thing for Harry is the silence from his ability.**

 **I think the wolf fits Harry nicely, he's a sociable person inside his 'pack' of friends.**

 **I think the next chapter will be delayed a fair bit, but i'll try and deliver it as swiftly as i can.**

 **The 'time-skip' will take a while to work out, so i'm not sure when that will be ready, it might end up being chapter 18. It's going to be tricky, but i hope i can do it justice.**

 **As ever, i love your feedback, Enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18: Snake!

**A/N: User 'Minke' hit the nail on the head. Harry was forced to adapt to the information, a simple child's mind would have struggled.**

* * *

Chapter 18: Snake!

"I understand that Miss Tonks has begun her training."

"She comes back late every night, I only see her early in the morning now."

With nothing else to do today, Hedwig and I decided to visit Albus. He's busy with all things associated with a new year of students. I rock the armchair back on it's legs.

"Sirius has informed me of your decision to register your form."

"As I'm apparently destined to rub shoulders with everyone in the community, I figured the fewer laws I break, the better." Doing illegal things isn't really on my 'to do list'. "Besides, it's not like anyone is going down to visit Reginald any time soon. And it's even less likely that he'll co-operate with them." I scratch Hedwig's head as she perches on the arm of the chair.

"Hide in plain sight?" Albus looks up from his paperwork briefly. "Come in." He calls out. I peek around the back of my chair as McGonagall enters the office. "Good morning, Minerva."

"Good morning, Albus, Mister Potter." She hands me the letter she'd been holding. "The owl would not budge with the letter." Ah, the supply list.

"This is a _lot_ of Lockhart's books." I pretend to read the list. McGonagall's face sours.

" _Professor_ Lockhart will be joining us in September to fill the post left by Quirinus." Albus explains to me.

"Oh? What's he like? I've only uh _read_ a couple of his works." Lockhart writes very … eccentrically. Albus glances at McGonagall.

"He has a … well documented history." Albus says carefully.

* * *

"Look, I need to go back to Hogwarts. No matter what nefarious plot your, no doubt well founded, warning is about, I need to return to Hogwarts." I try and reason with the mad house-elf.

"Harry Potter sirs not be understanding!" He pulls his ears as he begins to weep again. I conjure him a tissue, which he stares at as if it were made of gold.

"Ok, listen. You've said, repeatedly, that I'm 'The Great Harry Potter', right?" He nods eagerly. "So, Logically I need to return to school so I can protect everyone from the plot. To keep everyone else safe?" He stares blankly at me.

"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!" He pleads. I pinch the bridge of my nose. This isn't getting us anywhere. "Dobby's must be leavin now." He looks scared again as he vanishes.

Dobby? Where have I heard that name before?

* * *

"Harry!" I whirl around in the train compartment.

"Hermione." I grin as she tackle-hugs me. "Good summer?" Her parents had taken her to Belgium this summer.

"It's been fantastic. Bruges was _beautiful_." She begins to recount the trip as we settle down. "And I got your letter." She slaps my arm.

"Hey! What was that for?" I rub my arm.

"For having Hedwig fly all that way."

"She wanted to!" She hits my arm again. "Hey!"

"And that was for not telling me you were learning to be an Animagus."

"I'm going to bruise now." I mumble, massaging my arm. She ignores me.

"You mentioned it altered you, is that why you're so …" She gestures to me.

"Handsome?" Smack. "Hey!"

"Honestly." She huffs. " _Tall_."

"I'll have to see Madame Pomfrey at this rate." I pout, she rolls her eyes. "I'm as fit as a fiddle thanks to wolfy, or as fit as a wolf. I've never been sure-"

"'What's so inherently fit about a fiddle.' Yes, you've said it a hundred times." She shakes her head as she smiles.

* * *

"Lovegood, Luna." Lovegood? I look up at the girl walking towards the stool. I've come across a lot of trinkets in Albus' office created by Lovegoods. She sits on the chair and kicks her legs as she waits.

"Ravenclaw!" I join the rest of the hall in the applause. The hat is lifted and the blonde girl skips to the end of our table. I exchange a look with Michael Gelder opposite me, Clearly neither of us have seen somebody skip from the sorting.

"Weasley, Ginevra." Is the next name to catch my attention. Charlie's sister. The final Weasley. She is, quite predictably, sorted into Gryffindor.

* * *

"I'm quite certain the man has _never_ written a truthful word in his life." Hermione huffs as she stomps down the aisle in the library. I'm disposing of my Lockhart books in an orderly fashion.

"I told you so." I smirk. I'd had Lockhart yesterday, it was quite clear that nothing but hairwax is between his ears.

"How does he do it? Write all this drivel and get away with it!" She waves her copy of 'Year with the Yeti' in front of my face. I put my own copy on the shelf. Maybe someone will enjoy the fiction in years to come.

"Tonks sent us a letter." I take the parchment from where I'd been using it as a bookmark. She snatches it from my hand and flattens it out on the aisle's edge.

"Us?"

"Saves her writing two letters I suppose." I set my copy of 'Magical Me' on the shelf too. A brilliant waste of money. The dates cross over and contradict each other at least 12 times.

"Tell me what?" She draws my attention to the post script.

"If I told you something impossible, would you grill me about it for 3 hours?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"Yes." She says impatiently.

"Hermione." I take a deep breath and meet her eyes. "I'm pregnant." She hits me with 'Year with the Yeti'. "Ow! When did you become so violent?"

"Can you be serious?" She glares at me.

"Sirius is far too old for Hogw- Ah!" I rub my head.

"One more and I'll use 'Hogwarts: A History'" She looks at me menacingly. It's a bigger book. Much bigger.

"Ok, ok." I hold my hands up placating. She folds her arms triumphantly. "Remember your promise."

"Of course. 2 hours and 59 minutes of grilling." Her smile widens as I groan.

"Might as well go somewhere comfortable. Don't want this to be overheard." She nods. "And we're not missing dinner." I say as we walk.

* * *

"And that's why you read with gloves on? So you don't absorb too much?" Hermione asks what feels like the 300th question as I lay flat on my back by the lake.

"Yes."

"And why you not-so-subtly touch my notes all of the time?" I smile at this one.

"Yes."

"And why you've always seemed older than you are?"

"Well, that could be down to any number of harrowing events, but essentially, Yes."

"It's fascinating." She says. I turn my head to see that she is still leaning against the tree.

"Tonks and Sirius only asked dirty questions. This was far more in depth." I close my eyes again. "It doesn't work when I'm You-know-what. Blissful silence."

"It must be nice after all that time. All the noise."

"It's much easier to sleep." I smile.

* * *

"What is _that?_ " Draco wrinkles his nose.

"I believe we are looking at a dead cat." I say dryly. I knew I'd heard something. 'Rip … Tear … Kill.' Hardly something you'd say if you were about to kill someone's cat.

"Potter." I look up. Draco is looking at the wall. A crowd has formed now.

' _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened._

 _Enemies of the Heir beware.'_

"Enemies of the heir beware." Draco reads aloud. Very strange. I walk around the cat and almost trip. Snake. basilisk. Very, VERY big.

"My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?!" I'm vaguely aware of accusations against me of killing a cat as I try and fathom the giant killer snake. Albus arrives and I allow myself to be lead to Lockhart's office. Filch sobs as Albus inspects the cat. Draco and Snape are here along with Lockhart, who is making all sorts of remarks. Fingers are pointed at me. I feel numb. A basilisk in the school.

"If I may speak, Headmaster." Oh joy. Snape to the rescue. "Draco has informed me that he and Potter simply happened upon the scene. Merely in the wrong place at the wrong time." Wow. Snape to the rescue. I'd been wandering around with Draco, listening to him talk about brooms or something, trying to ignore the festivities. A holiday marking James and Lily's deaths.

"Is this true?" Albus asks me.

"Yes, sir." I swallow heavily.

"I see." Albus turns back to Filch to placate the distraught man.

* * *

"A basilisk, Albus!" I pace nervously in his office. "A _fucking_ basilisk! How am I supposed to sleep with the knowledge that a basilisk is lurking around! It's at least a hundred feet long! Who calls a basilisk _Nysa?"_ I anxiously rake my fingers through my hair.

"Are you certain you are not mistaken?" He asks seriously. We are, of course, alone.

"Mistaken? I was close enough to hear it talk. A basilisk. And the Chamber of Secrets? This is Salazar's _pet_." I drop into the armchair opposite Albus. "We're both parselmouths. Maybe I can tell it to piss off."

"Could you not follow the whispers? Find it's origin?" Albus suggests.

"Even if I _could_ see the whisper of a basilisk, _and_ if I hadn't pissed myself, then I'd walk in the opposite direction – Not into it's lair."

* * *

"Roosters!" Hermione drops a large book into my lap. I'd told her about the basilisk. "The rooster's cry is said to be deadly to the basilisk."

"It also says that there is no confirmed kills via rooster. Ever. _But,_ Hagrids'"

"Roosters have all been killed! Somebody is protecting it!" She finishes my sentence.

"Brilliant." I say sarcastically. "As if it wasn't tough enough to kill already." I sigh. "I'll talk to Albus, see if he's got a game plan. I don't even want to _try_ and follow this thing without him."

"I know you're in here!" Filches voice rings through the restricted section.

"Great." I dig into my bad for my pass … which expired last year and physically expired. Damn magic. "Shit."

"Language." Hermione scolds whilst looking panicked.

"Good luck." I cover myself with the invisibility cloak. Hermione looks stunned. I lift up the edge and grin. "I'm kidding, get in her." She glares at me as she hides beside me.

"I hate you." She hisses.

* * *

"Why are we here?" I complain. Hermione decided, on my behalf too, that Quidditch would be a good way to spend time whilst Albus is away doing God knows what.

"It's fun." She says. "Supporting your house. Or my house." Gryffindor VS Slytherin. "Draco's playing." She offers.

"And he's terrible."

* * *

Back, back!" Lockhart pushes through the crowd. A rogue bludger just crushed my arm. "Broken!" He proclaims, brandishing his wand near my arm. "And easy fix!" He smiles brightly. I think I'd take my chances with Nysa the basilisk over this.

* * *

Albus had insisted on waiting until the Christmas break to deal with the snake, as there would be less students around. He hadn't appreciated my 'Less collateral' comment. We now walk side by side, Albus carrying a caged rooster, through the hallways.

"Have you ever some across a basilisk before?"

"Once, when I was a young man." He says. "The beast was 12 inches long and dead."

"Wonderful." I mutter.

* * *

"It's impressive. I'll give it that." I stand a few metres away as Albus inspects the great vault door beneath the girl's toilets.

"And Miss Weasley is within?"

"A couple of minutes ahead of us." I confirm. Albus disillusions the rooster and cage as he walks to me.

"The door is safe. Are you ready?"

"Almost certain death? Let's go." I stand in front of the door. " _Open_." I hiss in Parseltongue, just as Ginny had. The door springs to life. "Heir of Slytherin." I say morbidly. The duelling club had given me yet another nickname after Draco, the idiot, had conjured a snake. "The magic is green here." I say to Albus. "Salazar would come through this door at least every couple of days." We cautiously walk down the steps into the huge chamber.

"Anything?" He holds his wand high, illuminating the cavern.

"The snake's about, look sharp." I point to the giant head. "It lives in there, but it's open-" I feel it's presence behind us and spin to face it. The pressure builds in the air as I meet it's eyes as it lunges at us. I transform into the wolf and dive at Albus, pushing him out of the way as a dagger pierces into my chest. The basilisk's tooth drags me through the air along the lunge path. The rooster cries out as Albus quickly recovers and the basilisk falls limp onto the floor as I change back.

"Ah!" I hiss.

"Harry!" Albus skids across the floor as he kneels beside me. I grip his arm.

"It's got me, Albus." I look down at the blood covering my chest. Fawkes appears at his call. "Tell everyone … I was fabulous." I fall backwards and close my eyes.

"Harry, It's healed." Albus sounds unimpressed. I crack one eye open and tilt my head forward.

"Oh." I climb to my feet, brushing the dust off. "Well, that was suitably terrifying."

* * *

After we'd found Ginny, Albus has destroyed the book that had apparently possessed her. He had extracted some of the venom and the book exploded as it soaked in. He instructed me to seal the Chamber of Secrets. There had been lots of crying and frowning as the Weasleys had been informed with some of the details. All I got was a big scar on the upper right of my chest. Luckily my heart wasn't pierced.

* * *

"And then I got the beast in a headlock." I mime the action. "And threw it into the toilet! The damsel was saved and I looked glorious." I strike a heroic pose. Hermione rolls her yes, not impressed at my Lockhart-esque retelling of the story.

"That's the best you could come up with over the whole Christmas break?" She drops her attention back to her book. I skulk over to her and sit against the tree. It's a nice spot really. A nice view of the lake.

"Sounds more exciting than a rooster doing all the work." I nudge her. "A rooster bested Albus Dumbledore." I laugh. "Spose it was his rooster though, so it's his triumph, not that he can tell anyone there was a thousand year old basilisk under his school."

* * *

"Couldn't you at least _pretend_ to be revising?" Hermione glares at me as we sit in the library. I've got my feet up on the table and I'm attempting to balance on one chair leg. I don't think it agrees with the action.

"I am revising."

"For what?"

"Err, Balance? We'll call it Quidditch practice." I shrug.

"You don't even play Quidditch." She scowls.

With out exams fast approaching, Hermione has begun her frenzy of revising and rechecking all of her notes several times over.

"You should relax a bit. You'll burn yourself out before the tests even start, then you'll perform sub-optimally for the real things." She snaps the book shut.

"You're right." She looks surprised. "Where's the real Harry?" I smile.

* * *

In the last Quidditch match of the term, Draco managed to get knocked off of his broom. Personally, I think he's playing up the leg injury a bit, but I'm visiting the hospital wing for moral support.

"Draco! Got your peg-leg yet?" I lean against the curtain pole, smirking.

"Potter." He scowls. "If you're here to mock me, you can leave now."

"We should celebrate – You did win after all." Even if Hufflepuff caught the snitch. "been meaning to ask, What's your house-elf called?" It'd clicked in my head when I'd thrown him his robe in DADA last week. Dobby had washed it, and not at Hogwarts.

"It's Dobby, why?" He frowns.

"Draco, I- oh. It's _you_." Lucius Malfoy. I try not to look concerned, I'd heard that Ginny had told Hermione, who then told me, that Fred and George Weasley has seen Malfoy Senior and were intending to not pass up the opportunity to play a prank on him. And judging by his normal, for a Malfoy, face – They've not done so yet.

"Ah, Lord Malfoy. A uh … pleasant day?"

"Until I heard my son had been injured, yes." He drawls, almost rolling his eyes.

Quietly at first, and then louder and louder, a whistling fills the room. Almost like a … firework? I take a large step away from the elder Malfoy. A flash hits him in the head, clearly something propelled from down the hall. A bang and a flash of light and … Bras and knickers all over him. I'm too stunned to laugh. Or maybe too afraid. He raises his arm and he looks as if he's about to explode.

"Father?" Draco ventures. Lucius takes a deep breath and start to fiercely throw the garments on the floor.

"Master has given Dobby clothes." A voice, barely above a whisper. I turn and pull the curtain beside Draco's bed. Dobby, having apparently responded to Draco's voice answering my question, has a lacy red brassiere on my head. "Dobby is free."

I don't even know why these things always seem to happen near me.

* * *

"Another year under our belts." I lean against the stone pillar of the courtyard. She looks relieved. "Are you going to tell me why you've looked so smug since breakfast?"

"Do you remember when I asked you to condense all of the dates in Lockhart's books into a timeline?" She turns to me.

"You mean when you caught me before I went out for a run and forced me into the library? I remember the accompanying headache."

"I wrote a letter to the Daily Prophet." She pretends not to hear me. "They wrote back this morning and, although I won't be credited, they are going to use the information to reveal Lockhart for the fraud he is, this convince people to dig into his background." She smirks.

"Oh, the scandal." I laugh. "Hermione Granger, you are evil."

* * *

"Who do you suppose will teach Defence next year?" I ask as we settle in the train. Hermione invited Ginny to sit with us, they're sort of friends.

"Whoever it is, they can't be worse than than _Lockhart_." Hermione says, still proud that she had him fired, no doubt.

"No, I guess not." I smile lightly.

"An Auror, maybe a curse breaker?" Ginny suggests. She doesn't talk much.

"Somebody that's actually qualified?" I laugh as I lay across the seat. "Not a chance." Hopefully they have more than 6 brain cells though. "So, Hermes. Where you heading this summer?"

"I don't know who 'Hermes' is, but _I_ am going to Germany." Hermione answers.

"And I'll be stuck here in the tender care of Tonks." I sigh dramatically.

"Don't pretend you won't enjoy it."

* * *

 **A/N: And the second year in a nutshell. I hope it's still entertaining without all of the details, i tried to keep the sections snappy.**

 **Harry's Animagus abilities are unknown simply because nobody cares to check. 'Nysa' the basilisk's eyes had no effect on Harry - A parselmouth and he was, of course, being dramatic once he saw Fawkes arrive to save him. And by amazing happen stance, Dobby was freed!**

 **So he's gotten a bit older, more experienced and the wolf has effected him, in more ways than just appearance. I also have this strange idea of Harry being able to have more than one Animagus form by learning from the wands he will touch. Thoughts?**

 **So, let me know what you think of this condensed year, i'm fairly happy with it. Enjoy!**


	19. Chapter 19: The Bank Chapter

**A/N: Brought to you by Italix Parsons Essential - Lovely pen.**

 **Playwitch is magical Playboy. A uh ... _adult_ magazine i suppose.**

* * *

Chapter 19: The Bank Chapter (Names are hard)

"Harry!" I accept Sirius' hug as we get off the train. He holds me at arms length to get a good look at me. "I've waited so long to see you off the train." He looks a bit teary eyed.

"Come on you big sap, you'll make a scene." He laughs and nods.

"Tonks was around here somew-" He gets interrupted as the pinkette dashes past him and attempts to squeeze the life out of me. I can only smile and hug back.

"Awh, I've missed you sooo much." She pulls back and grins. "Look how tall you've gotten!" She continues the strange cooing for a while before setting off at an impossible pace, recounting her various tales from her training as we head towards Diagon Alley. "How's Hermione?"

"Well if we'd stayed for another 10 seconds, you'd have seen her." I say as we enter the Leaky Cauldron. "She was releived when she got her results, I'm surprised she's not written to you yet." It's been a while since then.

"Oh, She has, but that's girl's stuff." She grins at me.

"I don't even want to know." I look up at Sirius. "How've you been keeping? Gotten a hold of Moony yet?"

"Few months ago. I thought I'd mentioned it?" He frowns. "Anyway, He'd been working in America for a few years, so it was tricky to find him."

"What's he been doing? Nothing with wizards I assume." Werewolves have to fight an uphill battle for any employment in the magical society. It's ridiculous.

"Yep. Some muscle work for muggles." He laughs.

"Muscle work? Moony?" I don't know much about him, but he doesn't strike me as the type.

"Stronger than he looks. Bouncer stuff, look menacing. I think it's the calmness. It unnerves people." He says conspiratorially.

"Is he over here now?" I ask as we head off the main street.

"Back at mine right now. He's been digging through the library for the past couple of days, you know how he is." That kind of catches me off guard as Sirius opens the flat's door.

"Kept it clean, Tonks?" I ask as we walk up the stairs. She grins innocently … or as innocently as she ever could. Clothes and general stuff laying around, but it's not too bad. "Better than I'd expected. How you get today off anyway?"

"Junior Aurors get like 1 day off a month. _With approval_." She says sourly.

"Mad-Eye not driving you too hard?" I smirk.

"His idea of a test is trying to curse me when I'm on the toilet." She scowls.

"How about you, Padfoot? Fancy joining the corps again?" I drop down into my armchair with a sigh, closing my eyes.

"Maybe. I'm probably on a blacklist for being in Azkaban." he muses. "Anyway, swing by in a few days. We can catch up then, meet Moony too."

"Will do." I nod, opening my eyes again. "Sorry about not coming down at Christmas. Basilisk n'all that."

"Nah, it's fine. Just come for this Christmas, Basilisks be damned." He grins and waves as he leave.

"You have to tell me _everything_." Tonks is now sprawled out on the sofa.

"Well, it all started on the train..."

It takes a while to catch her up properly.

"Arithmancy _and_ Ancient Runes?" Tonks laughs. "You're mad."

"I like to think they'll go hand in hand." I shrug. "One will be easier because of the other. I don't know, I think it'll be fun."

"We've got very different ideas about what's fun then." Her face adopts an evil grin. "Maybe it's all those late nights in the library with Hermione?"

"Do I detect a hint of envy?" She snorts. "I'm hurt, Tonks." I pretend to look affronted. "Oh, What's with the mirrors?" I point to the new furniture. 3 tall mirrors by the kitchen.

"Just to make sure I get all the details right." She explains as I stand up. "Cover all the angles.

It strikes me just how long it's been since I'd really looked at myself in a mirror. The extra height and the fact I no longer resemble a street urchin. I certainly don't look 12 any more. It's like...

"Tonks." I stare at my reflection.

"What?"

"This is it." I point. "The mirror. When I was in my first year. The Mirror of Erised. This is what I saw. Same shirt and everything." A smile spreads across my face. "No jewellery, but that didn't really make much sense." I shrug.

"What does this mean then?" Tonks asks as she stands beside me. "You couldn't be happier?"

"Nah. This was the goal when I was 11. If I saw the mirror now ..." I step to the side and pull Tonks with me. "It'd probably be similar to this."

"With me in the frame?" She smiles, or it looks like a smile. "Aren't you just Prince Charming?" I grin.

* * *

Whilst Hedwig left to reassert her territory in London, I'd ventured out into the city in search of a violin – A very old and used one too. My journey had started in an antiques shop and, although there wasn't a violin, I did find the base to a gramophone. What the man didn't know, was that he had a magical gramophone, charmed to play without any winding needed. It had once belonged to a man named James Hanford, He had sold it to this shop without the horn, claiming it was a normal, yet broken, antique His Master's voice gramophone. It's carrying case had a handle and wheels, so I paid £30 and continued the search.

After handling a battered violin, courtesy of a spoilt child, I'd come across the exact thing I'd been after. A man named 'Arthur Mann' had used the violin for 50 years and 3 days until he died at the age of 68. His son, Lawrence Mann, had sold many of his father's possessions in 1987 – The violin travelled around and eventually found itself in an auction hall where I had to big against an especially loud American man. Of course nobody else knew it's history as I did, nor did I have to have this particular violin after touching it for appraisal, but it felt right. £73 and one angry American later – I head back to the Leaky Cauldron with my hands full.

"Harry!" Sirius waves me over to the table he's at.

"What are you doing in here?" I set the cases down.

"Just grabbing a drink." He nods to Moony. "It's all wine and gloom in the manor." He shuffles along the bench so I can sit.

"The infamous Remus Lupin." I smile at the haggard man. He looks old and tired, his hair is already going grey. His clothes are slightly worse for wear and he looks as if he's been dragged through a thorn bush backwards.

"Infamous?" He sips his drink and looks at Sirius. "I don't know what he's told you, but it's not true."

"Hey! I'd never tell such lies." He smiles innocently.

"So that story about charming James' glasses to see through McGonagall's robes wasn't true?" I ask.

"McGonagall's?" Remus laughs. "Amateurs. It was the head girl's, Sirius just doesn't want to admit it was better than he could do."

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you know how to work one of these?" I ask Sirius as he fusses over the record player. I'd conjured an exact replica of the horn, he insisted on fitting it himself.

"Yeah." Something clicks loudly. "We've got one in the dining room. Bella and I used to crank the Beach Boys to the top when nobody but Kreacher was home. Ah!" He straightens up and dusts off his hands. "What did you get?" He accepts the record from my hand.

"I was skint after the buying the violin. Iron Maiden – No prayer for The Dying."

"Iron who?" He slips it out of it's case.

"You were in prison, never mind that." I shake my head.

"Side A it is." He says.

* * *

"What's happened to music, Moony?" Sirius moans. "My poor ears."

"It wasn't _that_ bad." I say. "I think Tonks'll enjoy it." I undo the clasps holding the violin case closed and hold the instrument to my chin.

I start slowly at first, to get a feel for it as my fingers become more nimble, sliding across the strings with ease as I work the bow. I switch to a more upbeat tune, a favourite of Arthur's. It's relaxing to play. Definitely worth the money to keep the instrument that taught me.

* * *

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"You know how your amazing Godson's birthday is coming up?" I ask casually over breakfast in Grimmauld Place.

"Yes?" He says carefully.

"Do you think I could get a ring?"

"A ring? Sure."

"Made of mithril."

"Mithril!?" He almost chokes on his coffee. "What in Merlin's name do you need a _mithril_ ring for?"

"Alchemy."

"Alchemy!?" He coughs again.

"Hear me out – We need a focus for our spells. A wand, rings, feathers, runes – That sorta thing."

"Right." He nods.

"Alchemy also requires a focus. A staff or a rod of some kind. A ring or a Philosophers Stone." I grin. "Which doubles as a power source too, but unless you've got one of those kicking about, a ring would be great."

"Why does it have to be mithril?"

"Because I'm learning alchemy, not parlour tricks. Mithril can conduct magic on a level not seen in any other metal, even better than wood given the correct circumstances. You could even-"

"I get it, I get it. 'Must be mithril'." He drains his mug. "Do you know how hard it is to find something made of mithril?"

"Well, we can either chip a bit off of Azkaban, or we can go to the Goblins. They can shape it. For a price." I add with a grin.

"The Goblins? I don't think that's such a good idea, Harry."

"It'll be fine. They would never risk angering the uh … esteemed Lord Black." Sirius snorts. "Grab your jacket, let's go."

"If you get us beheaded, I'm going to kick your arse in whatever afterlife there is." He says whilst pulling his jacket on. "Don't you think I should dress up a bit if we're dealing with Goblins?"

"What? Of course not. It's a bloody bank, not the Playwitch Mansion." I pull the front door open.

"The what?" Sirius quickly walks down the stairs after me. "Harry!"

"Playwitch is a lot bigger than it was in the 70's. Their annual turnover is-"

"The Mansion, Harry. The Mansion." He urges.

"I heard that they bought this big mansion and all the models live there. Nobody knows where it is, the only photographs are taken in house by the other models." We cross a road. "The annual turnover is about a million galleons for the past 3 years running. The stock holders were apparently incredibly careful about hiding the Mansion so they could control every shot that leaves. None of that public menace Daily Prophet stuff." I look back at Sirius' dreamy face.

"Wait." He snaps out of it. "Did you say the shareholders know where it is?"

"Of course. It's probably a bunch of dirty old men, Such as yourself, but they know. Maybe it's a fidelius." I shrug. "Thinking of buying the whole company?"

"You said it yourself, A one million galleon year. That's good business. It could go bigger and better, give it a few years under the right leadership, who knows? Maybe it could double in a few years."

"And the scantly clad models have nothing to do with it?"

"Hadn't even crossed my mind." He grins.

"'Course not. Well, Gringotts is the place to go if you want to buy majority shares somewhere and look, the Leaky Cauldron. Business awaits."

"So we just stroll in and ask to buy some mithril?" Sirius asks.

"Kinda. You have to be direct with Goblins, but not rude. Don't dance around your point unless you're friends with the Goblin."

"People can be friends with Goblins?"

"Not with that attitude. We go in and then we just need to be careful – Not get killed for starters." Sirius opens the arch into Diagon Alley. "Oh, and don't exclaim at any prices, You might offend them and-"

"'You never want to offend a Goblin'." He nods. "You sound like-"

"Arcturus Black. I heard him tell you this morning." I laugh.

"It's weird that you can do that."

"Just ask for a Master of Metallurgy. I'm not a Lord, so they won't listen to me."

"Master of Metallurgy, got it." He nods as we approach the bank.

"Then let me do the talking so you don't start a war." We laugh as we cross the bank's threshold.

"Good day, Teller." Sirius greets in an overly formal voice. He's going to get us killed.

"Lord Black." The Goblin replies lazily.

"We wish to speak with a Master of Metallurgy." Hopefully the Goblin doesn't think he's taking the piss.

"May I enquire as to what business you have here today?"

"No." Sirius says firmly. Good.

"Very well." The Goblin scowls, or perhaps it's a smile. "Ironhook!" A smaller Goblin comes running. He's given instructions in the raspy Goblin tongue. "Follow him." We follow the Goblin to a set of ancient looking wooden doors. A gold plaque has 'Master Steelclaw' engraved onto it.

"Sirs." The Goblin stands to the side of the doors as they swing open. The office is a lot smaller than I'd expected, but that's mostly due to the shelves and cabinets that lines the walls displaying a vast number of rocks and metals. An old, white haired Goblin, Master Steelclaw, sits behind the grand desk. His left hand is, quite fittingly, a metal claw. The door closes behind us.

"Lord Black, How may I be of service?"

"Harry wants a-"

"Listen here, Steelclaw." I walk up to his desk. "We're here for one thing, so you'd best not waste out time. Mithril – Can you work it?"

"What does one such as you require such metal for?" He asks through gritted teeth.

"If you can't do it, then fair enough. Come on, Sirius." I turn to the door.

"We only just-" I glare at him.

"I can shape the true metal like no other." Steelclaw growls. I wink at Sirius as I turn back.

"Why should we believe you?" I pluck a silvery bar from the top shelf. "A mithril alloy? Silver? Is this the best you've got?" I taunt. He slams his fist and claw onto his desk.

"You dare!? I should skin you where you stand for such an insult, human!" He shouts. "The Blessed Arts have been passed through my clan for generations!"

"The Blessed Art of forgery!" I hurl the mithril-silver alloy bar at him, he dodges sideways and it sails past his head, taking a chunk of the marble wall out. "A house-elf could forge better metals!"

"My clan has forged weapons the likes of which no human has ever seen!" He snarls and dives over his desk.

I punch the top of his head and wrestle the long knife from his grip and swipe at him. His claw parries the blow and he kicks me into the nearby cabinet. I hurl a big rock at him, copper this time, and it hits him squarely in the cheek. He stops. I drop the knife as he starts to laugh.

"I like you, Harry Potter." He retrieves the knife and wipes his bloodied cheek with his sleeve. I shake his hand with a grin.

"So, onto business?" I ask as we take our seats. Sirius mutters something as he slumps into his chair.

* * *

"Well that was fun." I smile as we leave Gringotts.

"Was that before or after you got into a fight?"

"Ah, All of it. First blood to me. Thanks for the present." I hold up my right hand. After we'd agreed on a base material price, I'd requested for the band to resize. I don't think Steelclaw would have done it if I hadn't goaded him into the challenge.

"What are you gonna do with that anyway?"

"Everything is achievable through magic. I can reverse engineer some of Flamel's stuff and once I see the patterns, I can start putting together my own formulas."

"I'll leave you to it I guess. Happy early Birthday."

"What about you? Your account manager have anything to say about the 25 thousand you just dropped?"

"Compared to what's going to be moving out of the Black coffers soon, 25 grand here or there isn't going to make much difference." He chuckles.

"Decided to buy Playwitch?"

"I see it as an investment opportunity." He grins.

"I'm sure your motives are strictly PG." I roll my eyes. "What does the accountant think of the decision?"

"As long as I can put gold in his pockets, he'll agree with anything I say." He throws his head back and laughs.

"So what's the plan? Buy out all the share holders and assume control?"

"I'll leave all the managers in place, they're the ones that carried the company this far. I'll just be there to oversee things." He explains.

"Ah yes. Oversight – your speciality."

* * *

 **A/N: A nice long one. I'm not really sure what the big 'Thing' is going to be for Harry's third year, but there doesn't really need to be one, i just think it'll be more interesting if there is.**

 **Alchemy! Exciting stuff. Any suggestions for interesting things are welcome. It's as much science as it is magic - I recommend "** **In the Mind of a Scientist" by 'ZenoNoKyuubi'.**

 **I forsee a delay for the third year round-up, So bear with me. Might be chapter 21. Thoughts and suggestions are greatly appreciated - Enjoy!**


	20. Chapter 20: In the summertime

Chapter 20: In the Summertime

"Harry! What the hell's going on?!" Sirius shouts as he enters my flat. "What's that noise?"

"Sirius!" I beckon him over. "A petrol generator! The formula needs power!" Currently set up in the centre of the room is a large cauldron, full of water, and a Honda generator. The discarded jerry can sits by the sofa.

"What are you doing?" He shots over the roaring.

"Alchemy!" I point to the leads connected to the generator. "These transfer the power through those copper rods, which powers the reaction!"

"Should they be glowing?" I turn my attention to the red hot conducting rods.

"Probably not!" I pat the generator. "Hang in there buddy." I point to the cauldron, which is now bubbling. "This is where the reaction happens! Normally it'd take weeks, so I'm using a catalyst!" I point to the jar in the centre of a chalk circle on the floor. "Ideally it would be crushed pixie wings, but I don't have any!"

"What are you using instead?" He calls.

"Sand!"

"Sand?!" The cauldron starts to rock.

"Sands of time?" I shrug. "I don't know, shoulda seen the muggles faces when I nicked a bucket from the park!"

"What are you making though?" He takes a step back.

"The water is going to turn into pure petroleum!"

"Petroleum?"

"Petroleum!" I cheer.

"What the fuck is petroleum?!"

"It's-" The generator starts to sputter and shake. "No! No! Too soon!" I quickly grab the jerry can and pour the remaining fuel into the funnel. "Here we go! Stand back!" I roll my sleeve up and extend my hand towards the cauldron, touching the mithril ring to it. Steam quickly bursts out, filling the air in a split second just as the generator lets out a loud bang as it gives up.

"Harry?" Sirius becomes visible as the steam settles. We are both wet. The copper rods have melted into pools on the floor and the jar that held the sand appears to have been obliterated. The generator starts to smoke.

"Safety first." I point my wand and extinguish the fire on the generator. "You alright? No glass in your legs or eyes?" He shakes his head.

"Did it work?" He asks as we lean over opposite sides of the cauldron. "Where'd it all go? It was full."

"A lot turned into steam and into the air..." I quickly conjure a glass and dunk it into the cauldron. "And some of it was used up and transmuted into petrol."

"But there's not even a full glass left." He wrinkles his face as he sniffs the glass.

"Well sorry for not being Nicolas Flamel, but I think I did quite well for my first attempt." I flick my wand and the petrol coils out of the cauldron and into the, now up-righted, jerry can.

"Wait, you used all that petrol to make a tiny amount?"

"Impressive, right?" I screw the cap back on. "I can work out a more efficient method in the future, but that's as good as it can get with these materials." I crouch next to the generator. "Not bad for fifty quid, the guy thought it was broken." I turn to Sirius. "You don't know what petrol is?"

"My bike doesn't use it any more, you said 'petroleum' too." He shrugs. "In my defence, it was a very stressful environment, so I think I'm allowed to forget what muggles put in their cars."

" _Reparo_." The generator groans and clicks as it puts itself back together again. "Once I get a feel for the finer points, I'll be able to do a much more efficient transmute, maybe a higher yield with a proper catalyst. I just wanted to make sure I had something in that slot, rather than making it blank."

"And you chose _sand_?"

"It was poetic." I shrug. "It's difficult to reverse engineer these things. Flamel used a focus that was also a power source, mine works _very_ differently." I stand up and dust my hands off. "What brings you to my humble abode?" I push the cauldron and generator to the edge of the room.

"One of the girls in the mansion said her sister's daughter got her Hogwarts letter this morning." He explains.

"Finally weaselled your way into the mansion then?" I smirk as I pick up today's post.

"I didn't _weasel_ into anything. I just … bought the whole company." He grins.

"Here we go." I toss the letter to Sirius. "'The Monster book of Monsters'? The hell does that mean?"

"What do you mean?" He frowns. "You've not even opened it." I roll my eyes and look at him impatiently. "Oh right – 'I-Know-Everything Potter'. Forgot." He tears the envelope open as I drop into my armchair.

"I'll wait til Hermione's back and get this year's stuff with her. Don't look at me like that, It'll give us a chance to catch up before school."

"Oh yeah. 'Catch up'. Of course." He pretends to be engrossed in the letter.

"Piss off." I throw my shoe at him.

"Oi!"

"I was thinking of going clothes shopping soon."

"Yeah?"

"With Tonks." He winces.

"Take it from your old Godfather – That's a terrible idea."

"What's a terrible idea?" Tonks appears at the top of the stairs.

"She's got a sixth sense for that." Sirius mutters.

"I was going to ask your to marry me, Tonks. But Sirius doesn't think it'd work out." Tonks sits on the arm of my chair.

"I'd have to start being called 'Potter'." She muses aloud.

"Maybe Nymphadora Potter." She wrinkles her nose at my suggestion.

"Spill the beans then." She says. "Smells of petrol in 'ere too. Either Sirius is sniffing, or your little experiment worked."

"You knew about this?" Sirius exclaims.

"'Course I did. Who'd ya think bought the petrol?" She grins.

"Against Sirius' advice, I was going to get some new clothes and I wondered if you could come along so I don't end up looking like a clown."

"Sure! Hermione gets back on the 20th, I'm not working that day either."

"Hermione? That wasn't the-"

"Thanks, Harry!" She bends down and kisses my cheek before walking into the kitchen.

"It won't be that bad, will it?" I look over at Sirius' face.

"I'll put your violin in your coffin." He says solemnly.

* * *

If my first mistake was planning this trip at all, the second would have been letting Sirius give Tonks a big sack of galleons. "Get something for yourself too." Before I could wipe the grin off his face, Tonks had dragged me out into Diagon Alley. Hermione had met us in the Leaky Cauldron, looking a lot different than she did before the summer, and quickly agreed to accompany us for the whole day. Tonks had said that Sirius hadn't specified that Hermione _wasn't_ included in the budget, and arguing with Tonks is impossible, so Hermione had conceded and let Tonks throw clothes at her as well as me.

"Try these." Tonks hands me something leathery as she finds me once more. I'd been trying to hide at the other side of the shop. Nobody needs to try on 30 pairs of jeans.

"Are these trousers?" I ask as she pushes me towards the changing rooms.

"Yep!" I can almost hear the smile.

"I don't think these are even made for blokes." I protest. "They won't fit me."

"They're magical, of course they'll fit." She puts her hands on her hips. Dammit.

"I don't think they're my style. Why don't you try them on instead?" I suggest.

"Why don't you both try them on?" Hermione says. "I'm sure they're not the only pair in the shop."

"Great idea!" Tonks runs off to find another pair.

"I don't see you volunteering." I scowl.

"Not my style." Hermione smirks.

"I think you could make them work." I back into the changing room as Tonks arrives. "This was supposed to be a simple trip for clothes, not me playing dress doll for the two of you." I say, trying to slip my leg into the leather.

"Don't pretend you're not enjoying it." Tonks says in a sing song voice. Ok, Maybe it's not all that bad. The two of them have also tried on their fair share of … _well fitting_ clothes. "Come on out." Tonks knocks on the door. I look … odd.

"I vote to veto these ones." I open the door. Tonks is apparently looking for a dropped contact or something. Right in front of me; She wears them _much_ better than I do.

"What do you think, Harry?" She straightens up and spins on the spot, almost tripping over. They are very, _very_ snug.

"Well, you look a lot better than me." I mimic the spin. "A bit tight around the … well everything really."

"I think I'll get these." Tonks twists her body to view the,uh, _behind_. She goes to the front to buy them.

"Stop staring, Harry." Hermione says.

"I'm not sure if that's actually possible." She lets out an exasperated sigh. "Is it possible to use a sticking charm on-"

"Harry!"

* * *

After spending a healthy, or perhaps unhealthy, chunk of the money Sirius have us, We head to Magical Menagerie – Hermione wants a cat, Her parents had said they couldn't get one abroad and bring it back.

"What kind of cat are you after?" I ask her. "Fluffy? Shaved? Bald?" Tonks coughs to cover her laugh.

"I'll know when I see them." Hermione says, oblivious to the joke.

"Look, Harry!" I turn to Tonks' voice. She's bent over by the puppies. Damn that leather. She's doing it on purpose, I know it. I lean on the small fence beside her. All of the puppies try and get as close to me as possible. "Steal the spotlight much?" She pouts.

"Maybe they know I'm the topdog?" I lean down to rub the nearest puppies ears. "My cute, fluffy minions." They scamper back over to Tonks as I stand up. I think they can tell that I'm an animagus even then I'm not transformed. Interesting.

"Awh, look at them." She coos.

"I'll leave you to it." I say, mostly to myself, as I venture off into the shop. It's host to hundreds of various animals of all shapes, sizes and colours. It's surprising that they all get fed really. I suppose some of them don't need to be fed as often as others. Such as the snakes here that are being kept in one large case. "Snakey snakes." I greet.

"A speaker?" They shuffle to get a better look at me.

"Suppose not a lot of people look at you lot."

"We scare the young ones." "On purpose." I smirk.

"I want to ask you something. When you smell me, or taste – whatever, what do you sense?" They stop moving for the most part as their tongues flicker from their mouths.

"Human." "Snake." "And … wolf."

"Wolf? I guess that settles it then." So animals know what I am. "You said snake? Is that the case for all, uh, speakers?"

"We have not smelt another." "But it was not thought a speaker would carry the serpentine scent." Interesting. "The Great Serpent, at that."

"Great Serpent?"

"I believe in your tongue – She is 'Basilisk'."

"In my tongue? We're speaking the same language." I grown as the snakes laugh.

"Forgive us, Master. We thought it a jest." One of the red snakes says hastily. "This is ah... Quasi-Parsel; More fitting for your native speech."

"So there are other kinds?" I press.

"Yes Master. High-Parsel. The true Noble tongue. Such words strike fear into the very minds of lesser beings."

"And the Great Serpent?" I hiss. "Basilisk."

"Master, Forgive me for speaking out of turn." One of the younger snakes coils into a tight circle.

"Cease your worthlesss blithering." This is far too entertaining.

"The Basilisk is said to be the child of the Great Serpent. Forgive the younglingsss, Master, for they know not of the true tales." An older, white snake slithers forward. It's blind, the wise old man of the snake pit. This is all getting quite bizarre. I note that the lizard in the next case is doing everything it can to get as far away from the snakes as possible.

"Continue." I command.

"Your scent carries the trace of the Basilisk, Master, along with a similar taste that the sons of Fenrir hold." Sons of Fenrir? Werewolves?

"The Great Wolf, Fenrir." I nod. "And does the true Great Serpent hold a name?"

"We know only of them as … Jörmungandr." The snakes collectively bow their heads. The neighbouring lizard is now irately scrabbling to get away.

"I believe that is enough High-Parsel for your friend their. Thank you, My children." They shiver in delight. I can see how a nutcase like Tom Riddle enjoyed the company of snakes so much. An enlightening conversation all in all. It sounds like animals know what I am, on an instinctual level at least. And they are scared of High-Parsel.

"Mraow." I look down at the loose cat. A big ball of messy orange fur and a squished looking face. "Mreow." The cat rubs against my legs. I bend down and he crawls into my arms, quickly climbing up onto my left shoulder. "Mreow." He rubs his head on my cheek as he purs.

"Crookshanks?" I ask him. Some noise of approval follows. It's similar to when I link with Hedwig, but not quite as intense or fitting, yet there is something warm and familiar about the cat. "You're looking for Hermione?" Affirmative. "But how do I know that, my friend?" I head through the aisles of the shop with Crookshanks riding along on my shoulder.

"Harry! You found him!" Hermione rushes up to me and scoops Crookshanks into her arms, cooing to him in a way she's never acted before. "This is-"

"Crookshanks. We've met." She looks surprised, probably because Crookshanks isn't wearing a collar. "He insisted I find you actually."

"Insisted?" She frowns, scratching the top of the ginger head.

"It was quite strange really, and I think you've found your familiar." I say in an almost smug manner.

"Familiar? Don't be silly, Harry. We've only just met."

"But you knew Crookshanks was the one as soon as you saw him and his uh, _history_ has the same feeling I'd imagine yours would be."

"Would be?"

"Well I've not really touched you to find out what makes you tick." I grin.

"You've spent far too much time with your Godfather." She blushes, returning her attention to, a very content looking, Crookshanks.

"Nah, Sirius is a great influence." I laugh. "Come on, we should make sure Tonks hasn't bought 6 puppies." A worthwhile trip overall. I smell like a wolf and a snake – Old Gods at that. Not bad at all.

I reach out to locate Hedwig and smile. She is currently happily sleeping in my flat. She wakes for a moment and hoots before settling down once more, apparently feeling my thoughts on her. I wonder if all familiars share a similar bond to Hedwig and I. Knowing my track record – Probably not.

* * *

Later that night, Tonks comes back to the flat from some late night drinking. It's a surprise she even managed to walk this far. She stumbles over to the sofa and drops down beside me.

"Have fun?" I ask her. She mumbles something and leans on my shoulder. "You made it this far by yourself, points for that." I remove my ring and set it on the coffee table. "Come on." I slip my arms under her legs and lift her up, supporting her neck with my other arm. She sleeping wraps her arms around my neck as I carry her into her room. Thank you wolf strength.

"Thanks." She mumbles as I lay her onto her bed.

"Goodnight, Tonks." I turn to leave.

"Mmmmm. Boots." She kicks her legs. I roll my eyes as I sit down beside her and work her boots off of mismatched socks, They fall to the floor with a heavy thud as I drop them. I watch as she squirms, slowly managing to get under her quilt. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" She mumbles something quietly, I bend down slightly. "What?" She turns her head and … kisses me. Just for a moment, soft and warm.

"Night, Harry."

* * *

 **A/N: Dun dun duuuun.**

 **Mixed feelings about this one. Snakes sort of have their own religion going on, so Harry got a bit caught up in it all. Animals in general don't see Harry as another human, but something powerful that could protect them. Dogs might steer towards the pack mentality.**

 **Crookshanks! Although Hedwig and Harry share a special connection due to his abilities, A regular familiar is nothing to shake a stick at,**

 **I don't know when the third year will be ready, so bear with me. Let me know what you think of this one. Enjoy.**


	21. Chapter 21: Year 3

**A/N: I do apologize for the time this took to write, but as you can see, it's a lot longer. I've had a lot on my plate, but here it is.**

 **Harry is starting to mature and i think this chapter shows some of that, along with his changes in demeanour and speech. It's more slang than when he was younger.**

* * *

Chapter 21: Year 3

"Did she mean to kiss me? Or was it just a drunken thing? She could barely walk." I say to Sirius as we walk through Kings Cross. "Maybe she was aiming for my cheek or something. I don't know if she feels _that way_ about me."

"Have you spoken to her about it?" Sirius asks, dodging a rude woman talking loudly into her mobile phone about bad signal.

"No, I don't even know if she remembers." I sigh.

"Do you want it to have been a drunken thing, or something more serious?"

"I … don't know." We encounter a lost looking family by the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾. "More for 'Nine and three quarters'?" I enquire, the mother looks at me in shock. "Straight through this wall." I shove Sirius through it. "Take a run if you're nervous. If _he_ can do it, you can do it." I grin at them as I back through the portal. "I've entertained the idea of me and Tonks, but I wouldn't want to screw things up, y'know?" Sirius nods sagely.

"The age old problem."

"But me with a girl like Tonks?" I shake my head. "It's impossible."

"That's what we told James about Lily." Sirius laughs. "I think he was the most surprised when she finally said yes to him."

"I'll talk to her when I'm back for Christmas." I pat my pockets to ensure I've not forgotten anything.

"Doesn't your you-know-what let you remember if you've packed?" Sirius asks.

"It doesn't work like that." Wand. Ring. Shrunken trunk. "That's everything." I look up at the train. "I still can't believe Moony is teaching this year. Those new laws passed earlier in the year cutting back-"

"Sshshh." He looks around. "Let's keep the details to ourselves?"

"Suppose it's 'Professor Lupin' now." I smirk. "Can't go around calling him any nicknames to do with certain afflictions." Moony is still less inventive than calling my wolf 'Scar'. The whistle blows loudly.

"Alright, come here." Sirius hugs me and smiles. "Now don't go turning Hogwarts into gold or something … not all of it anyway."

"Just my room maybe?" I step up onto the carriage. "Or transmuting the stones I tread on into gold, that'd draw some looks." I laugh. "I'll write to you later." I wave as I enter the train, not wishing to obstruct the door any longer. A camera flashes at me as I walk past a cabin containing Colin Creevey. I hold up my middle finger as the second flash comes before continuing my walk. It only takes a minute to find Hermione … and Draco. There was an altercation outside the compartment before Draco had entered.

"Why are you going in there, Malfoy?" The whisper of 'Pike' sneers.

"Obviously to sit, as I'd rather do so than stand for hours on end as you might wish to." Draco's whisper shoots back.

"Why with that _Mudblood_?" Pike looks into the compartment.

"Careful, Pike _._ " He spits the name. "That was dangerously close to insulting a friend of mine." Draco turns to the boy. "Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, you don't posses the brain power to actually formulate a proper insult." Pike goes for his wand, but freezes as Draco's appears pressed into his throat. "Walk away from this one, Pike." The boy steps back. "And if you breath a word of this to _anyone_ , your entire family will feel the repercussions." Hermione's whisper opens the door and the scene dissolves.

"Harry? Why are you just standing there?" The real Hermione Granger hugs me.

"I was just eavesdropping." I say as she releases me. "Something about fishing for _pike_." I grin at Draco.

"That doesn't sound worthy of eavesdropping." Hermione frowns.

"Maybe it's a euphemism for something that doesn't concern him." Draco glares at me.

* * *

"Is it true that you bought mithril from Gringotts?" Draco asks me as we climb onto the threstral drawn carriages.

"Been reading the Prophet, Have you?" I reply.

"So you didn't?"

"Oh, no. I did." I flick my middle finger up at him, giving him a view of the silvery band. "They were extremely apologetic that a whistle-blower read the logs and leaked it. I don't think they wanted to lose me as a customer."

"And will they?" He asks.

"Nah, they think they're hanging onto me, when really I need them much more. It's not like I can dump a load of gold coins at the RBS." (Royal Bank of Scotland) Hermione looks amused, Draco only frowns, not really understanding.

"So you can't even buy something without making the front page?" He smirks.

"Apparently everyone's lives are so boring at the Prophet that what I do is considered news." I shrug. "At least they don't dig into my private affairs too much or follow me around. That'd get real boring.

* * *

"Vane, Romilda." McGonagall calls out the final name. This is the girl whose family were confused about the entrance earlier today.

"A bad case of Wrackspurts." Luna comments from beside me. She often talks of odd creatures, and she reminds me of an odd creature somewhat. Always looking a little bit lost. She is, of course, the victim of some bullying, but I only ever see it second-hand as I pass over the spot. She also lacks shoes often, but whether this is by choice or simply because someone has stolen them, I'm not sure.

"Perhaps the Wrackspurts have a bad case of Vane?" I suggest. Luna makes no outward sign that she hears me.

"Gryffindor!" The hat calls out. Romilda hurries over to the table. The applause dies down as Albus introduces himself and welcomes us back.

"...And joining us this year is Professor Lupin." He gestures to Remus. "Who will be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Snape glares at him with the utmost contempt. I clap loudly along with the hall.

* * *

"You know, Harry, Ancient Runes isn't a wand based subject, so you won't be able to 'cheat' in this one." Hermione says smugly as we travel to Professor Babbling's class on our second day.

"I'm sure something will come up."

* * *

"And here are the standard issue engraving sets." Professor Babbling levitates a small box to each student in the class. "They are a bit old, but students use these all the way through their NEWTs." She explains. I look at Hermione with a big shit-eating grin. She scowls at me.

* * *

"It's not as glamorous as you're making it out to be." I explain as we walk to Care of Magical Creatures. "I still have to sift through all of the bad habits and misdrawn runes too. More mistakes have been made with those things than correctly drawn runes."

"And after you've 'sifted'?" Hermione glares at me. "You will have a huge range of knowledge that takes years for anyone else to accumulate." She is still sulking.

"How about I set aside time to relay everything to you. In the most mind numbing way for me." I suggest as we descend the grassy steps.

"Everything?"

"Sure. It'll help me understand it better too." She engulfs me in a hug as she … squeals?

"All four years, and don't leave anything out." She says sternly.

"What in fucks name?" I step away from her, looking over her intensely. Some thing's not right here. She looks startled. "You … what?" I glance around for anyone before stepping closer to her. "You're a time traveller?" I whisper. Her eyes fly wide open. "That's how you're going to take all these classes?" I smile spreads over my face. "What is it? Are you friends with a pixie? Or … A time turner!"

"Shhhh!" She looks around in a panicked manner. "Harry! You can't tell anyone!" She grips my arm tightly. I mimic the action, touching her sleeve experimentally.

"Woah." It's like she twisted into nothingness and reappeared at a different point in time.

"Harry!" She pleads.

"Yeah, yeah." I say distractedly. It's so twisted and strange, but completely fascinating. "Can I touch it?"

"No!"

"Please?" I pout. "Just for a second?"

"No!" She stresses.

"Can I see it at least?"

"No, Harry." She says sternly. "Professor McGonagall said to not tell anyone." She starts to walk again.

"Come on! Just one little peek, pleeeeease?" I beg. "Just for a second?"

"Potter, What _are_ you talking about?" Draco appears with Crabbe and Goyle. I look over at Hermione, who is now sporting a faint blush.

"Oh, nothing of note." I say with a grin. "Come on, We'll be _late_ for Care." Hermione slaps my arm. " _Pressed for time_ and all that." She stamps on my foot.

"Harry!"

* * *

"Hagrid, Exactly what is that?" Ron Weasley asks as the Hippogriff saunters into the clearing.

"It's a Hippogriff." I say, watching as the magnificent animal prance around a bit. Well, magnificent in it's own four-legged bird sort of way.

"Right you are, Harry. 5 points for Ravenclaw!" Hagrid says happily, throwing a ferret into the air, which is deftly caught and devoured in one bite. "Say hello to 'Buckbeak'. Now, the first thing you need ta know about Hippogriffs is that they are very proud creatures. Very easily offended. If you do offend one, well it might just be the last thing you ever do." Hagrid looks at us seriously for a moment. "Who'd like to come and pet him?" He beams under his shaggy beard. I look back at the wide eyed faces of my classmates and hop the fence.

"Don't mind if I do." I mutter as Buckbeak looks over at me.

* * *

"Well done, Harry!" Hagrid starts clapping in deep booms as Buckbeak returns us to the ground after the flight around the grounds. I slide off his back and pat the side of his neck before he catches another treat from Hagrid. "How do yeh think I'm doing?" I look up to see Hagrid peering down at me nervously. I give him a grin.

"Brilliantly, _Professor_ Hagrid." He beams at me, looking very pleased with himself, but the smile quickly vanishes as Draco stalks past us towards Buckbeak. Obviously he's paid no mind to 'The first thing you need to know about Hippogriffs'. I dash forward as Buckbeak rears up and give Draco a sharp shove, pushing him aside as the hoof comes down onto my forearm. Hagrid gets between us and pushes the hippogriff backwards.

"Go on ye great brute." He flicks the last ferret to sate Buckbeak's appetite. "The _second_ thing you need to know about Hippogriffs, is to pay attention to the first thing." Hagrid says, mostly to Draco as he dusts himself off. He scowls as the class laughs.

* * *

"How's my favourite time traveller?" Hermione jumps as I drop heavily onto the Gryffindor bench at breakfast. She looks around in panic.

" _Harry_! Someone will hear you!" She hisses at me.

"Oh relax, if someone had – You could just spin backwards and give me a good slap before I got here. Remember that I'm in the loop with all this now." Hedwig hops up from the bench to the table. "So, How _are_ you doing? You're looking a bit stressed." I wave my hand to the parchment and books sprawled across the table. I pick up a few pieces. "Runes, Arithmancy. We don't even have homework for Care and you're doing an essay. Hermione." She looks at me. "You've made a mathematical error in your Arithmancy work." Hedwig snatches Hermione's quill.

"Hey!" Hermione tries to stop her, but she flies up and sits on a window sill high above the tables.

"It's not even a month into school, and it's a Sunday. Hermione, you'll burn yourself out. Come on, We'll go see Hagrid."

"I'm fine, Harry." She protests. Ignoring her, I sweep her work into her bag and sling it over my shoulder. I stand patiently, with my hands on my hips, waiting for her to stand. "Fine." She rolls her eyes dramatically as she stands up. "Can I at least have my bag?"

"Nope. Can't risk you digging into it now, Can I?" I readjust the feminine bag on my shoulder.

"Nice bag, Potter." Draco says with a smirk as we pass him at the door.

"I wonder when he will start calling you 'Harry'." Hermione says as we exit the castle.

"Probably when he stops seeing me as a Potter, and as a single person."

"So never?" Hermione ventures, to which I laugh. "I think he's got a few screws loose still."

"Seems like most people in this society do." I throw my arm over her shoulders. "Me and you against a world of idiots."

"I think idiots is a bit harsh." She laughs.

"Morons? Imbeciles? They all seem quite fitting." As I lift my arm, I spot the chain that can only be attached to the time turner. "Hah!" Hermione jumps. "I touched it!"

"Harry!" She steps away from me. "What did you do?!"

"It shouldn't be possible." I laugh. "Oh, it's genius."

"What? And keep your voice down!" She looks around warily.

"Hundreds of tiny runes, they have to build the frame, then they expand it, carve the runes, then return it to it's original size! That doesn't normally work, but with time turners it does."

"You said you couldn't find out how things were made. 'Before it's timeline' were your exact words." She frowns as my smile broadens.

"That's the beauty of it, Hermione! Before it's _timeline_." I say enthusiastically. "They have to test them after it's made, to see if they work, and it picked up it's own history when it did so. They have a special team and the secrets on how they are made are heavily guarded. If it ever got out that I knew how to make one, I'd be destroyed. Literally destroyed."

"Why are you smiling, Harry? This is awful!"

"Hey, stop frowning. This is supposed to be your stress-free day." I beckon her on, heading down the steps. "Let's just not mention any of this to Hagrid – He probably couldn't keep what was on the menu for dinner a secret."

"Harry, Isn't this dangerous?" She says seriously after a few steps.

"Well they are a bit wet, you could walk on the grass if you're worried." She slaps the back of my head.

"I mean about the _time turner_." She says quietly, looking around in a shady manner.

"Nah." I wave my hand dismissively. "Well probably, but nobody needs to know. And another thing, the whole formula on which the time turner runs shouldn't be able to work. It's against some of the fundamental rules of temporal magic, But there it looks like crushed pixie wings act as a catalyst for the reaction – Their magic works differently to ours. The runes sort of … instruct the magic on how it should act … How can I explain this?" I bit my lip as I try to think. Hermione is listening in rapt attention. "Imagine me trying to tell a French person how to build a table. I can't speak French, and he can't speak English. So we would eventually we might work out a rough system of gestures to communicate."

"Like human magic instructing pixie magic?"

"Exactly!"

"But how do you know all of this?"

"I haven't the foggiest." I shrug with a smile. "The time turner knows, along with it's creator, so I know."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." I wriggle my fingers towards her. "Poor pixies."

"Their wings?" She gasps.

"What? No. They shed their wings when they get too big. They were tricked into helping with the creation by a bloke named Zaldimar. Pixies aren't very smart, so they gathered all their greatest minds to help and donated a large collection of shed wings and Zaldimar stole it and probably sent the pixies packing." I point to Hermione's chest. "Stolen pixie wings make up the sand inside."

"That's horrific!" She looks completely aghast. "We have to do something!"

"Do something? And let them know that we know?" I shake my head. "We'd get obliterated in a best case scenario and dropped into a volcano in most others."

"What about the pixies? We can give it back to them?"

"They probably wouldn't have any use for it and I doubt they'd really care about one being given back. If we gave them every single one and possibly murder everyone that knows how to make them, they might thank us. They don't really care about gestures like humans do."

"What do they care about? Food? Land?" I think Hermione would probably try and rehouse dementors in a care home if they had some abused history.

"Gold." I shrug. "Pixie gold to be precise, Like the time turners are made of. They can't make it themselves, so it's even more precious to them. I doubt they have many, if any, links to humans to get new gold. Your time turner is made from gold transmuted by Flamel himself, it's … Oh wow."

"What is it?" She almost walks into me as I stop walking suddenly.

"It's like déjà vu touching the metal. I can remember when Nicolas used his stone to make it." I itch my forehead. "It's kind of a purification process from normal gold. Removes the impurities of the Earth and all that's left is the Pixie Gold."

"Do you think you could make it? I've read about pixie gold, of course, and it's incredibly valuable because it's assumed to be a finite resource used by the pixies. It's assumed to be mined in secret caverns, not created like you said. Relations between humans and pixies have been dire for hundreds of years, it might be to do with this _Zaldimar_." She says the name much the same as she would when talking about Crabbe or Goyle. "

"Calling them beasts probably doesn't help things." I interject.

"Harry, if you're right, and pixies really care about their gold, you could repair the inter-species relations single-handedly!"

"I said I knew how it was made, not that I could do it. Unless you've got a philosophers stone in this bag of your." I pat the satchel.

"Well how _is_ it made?"

"For now, we'll use Nick's formula. It's incredibly simple because of how pixie magic aligns with the alchemical instructions. Now it's more like me trying to interact with someone from Newcastle, rather than France." She laughs at the comparison. "The flux is crushed pixie wings and the catalyst will also be pixie wings. It's crucial to have the catalyst too or the whole thing would destabilize and go off like a bomb – It is still fairy magic after all. Thankfully Nick already figured that part out. And then, the only things that's left, is power."

"And Nicolas Flamel used his stone?"

"Yep, and sadly I don't have that in my possession anymore. So unless you've got a better idea than Hedwig, I can't really make any."

"Hedwig?" She frowns.

"She recommends the lake, but she's thinking of power like the Queen holds, not magical power. She doesn't really understand that part yet."

"Could you use the castle? You've said that it's full of magic." Hermione suggests as we approach Hagrid's hut.

"Like filling a swimming pool a bucket at a time."

* * *

"Would anyone like to take a guess as to what the cupboard contains?" Moony asks the class as the wardrobe shakes violently.

"That's a boggart." Somebody says behind me. The rest of the class collectively jump as the wardrobe almost hops into the air.

"Excellent – Have 5 points for Gryffindor. Now, Can anyone tell me what a Boggart _looks_ like?"

"A Boggart has no known form." Hermione seems to appear out of thin air.

"In the nick of _time_." I say quietly, she treads on my foot.

"And why is this?"

"Because they are shape-shifters, They transform into whatever frightens us the most." Hermione recites.

"Sounds like Tonks." Hermione has to stop herself from laughing.

"Very good. Mr Longbottom, when I open that door, here's what I want you to do." Moon- _Professor Lupin_ leans in to whisper in Neville's ear.

" _Turned_ up on _time,_ I see." She lets out an exasperated sigh.

"You're going to get us caught one day." She whispers back.

"Just spin back and stop me if I ever do." I grin cheekily. "Did you find that book?"

"Pixies: A history." She nods, watching Remus and Neville. That has to be the single most generic name for a book ever.

"The charm is what repels the Boggart." He announces to the class. "But it is the laughter that truly finishes it off. Now, form a line and give Mr Longbottom some space, then I shall call each of you forward for your turn."

"Better watch out for a Hippogriff." I smirk at Draco. That one dose of Skelegrow was totally worth it for the amount of taunting I've given him over the incident with Buckbeak.

"Stuff it, Potter." He scowls at me, shoving his way into the queue.

"I would like you all to take a moment to think about what you find most frightening and think of a way to make it comical." Bugger. What scares me? Another basilisk maybe? McGonagall when Fred and George do something? I look up at Boggart-Snape, now sporting a big red handbag and a vulture topped hat, The class roars with laughter as the music starts. "To the back, move along!" The class stumbles forward as the next person is set against the Boggart. Each transformation appears and is quickly dealt with.

"I see you've forgone the Mad-Time Traveller look." I say to Hermione, looking up at her hair, pulled back today. "You look nice." She looks startled for a moment before she is pushed towards the Boggart. It shifts on the spot and turns into a giant blue pixie … with a very big golden sword.

"Riddikulus!" Hermione squeaks. The pixie is reduced to the size typical of a normal pixie, it looks down at it's body and stamps it's tiny feet furiously. She sighs in relief and hurries to the back of the line. I step forward and the tiny pixie turns to look at me. In a blur, it transforms into a grey robe and fires a spell at me, I deflect it in a flash. Was that a real spell? Hopefully Boggarts don't hold that power. This is the robe worn by Unspeakables. I've always been scared of the possibility of them finding out what I could do. I'd though the Boggart would turn into Tonks or Hermione injured in some way due to my actions. I suppose this is a far more selfish response.

"Riddikulus!" The Boggart staggers as the robe sprout flowers all over as the fabric turns pink. Perhaps Albus has something similar in his wardrobe. I back up and head to the back. I'll tell Hermione what I thought it'd be after the lesson.

* * *

"Assume no cover is safe when duelling a transfiguration master." Albus says as I pant, leaning on a pillar. We've been duelling for the past 20 minutes – Perhaps duelling isn't the right term for him hurling spells at me whilst I try and dodge, run, shield and try and shoot back. I push myself away from the pillar as it turns into spikes and I blast a pair of his damned stone lions as they pounce at me. I flick my wand to some splinters of what was once a wooden chair and return with three large wolves, I set them on fire just to be sure. The smoke might work in my favour.

"Inventive." Albus' voice sounds amused. He hasn't moved much from the centre of the oval room, but when I fire anything at him, he dodges it with far too much grace for a man of his age. He's only had to raise a shield twice this whole time, which is one for than I normally manage.

There's no doubt that he is better than me in a fight, and he seems to be able to predict any of the tricks that James used to come up with, I suppose Albus has seen him in combat enough to know what he does. It's tricky to stick with my own methods when I have a whole set of finely honed tactics from James and Lily. Lily – That's it! Nobody would know about her little trick. I stop running and point my wand at Albus.

It's almost like a trance. My vision darkens from the outside as the spells start to pour off of my wand. Lily had worked long hours on this stance, giving her the ability to launch spells a far superior rate than I've seen Flitwick, a renowned speed caster, achieve. Stupefy. Expelliarmus. Flipendo. Aguamenti. Anything to keep him on his toes. I faintly notice him resort to holding a shield up as the flurry of spells spiral and twist from the tip of my wand. There is a dull crack as the shield buckles. I shake my head as I drop my arm, returning to my senses. I instinctively hold up my hand as his wand flies to my hand. "Hah!" I manage to say. I've disarmed Albus Dumbledore! MY fingers close around the wood. "Fuck."

Antioch Peverell. The fabled Elder Wand. The Deathstick. The Deathly Hallow. October 31st 1250. The same day the cloak was created, but it's past was previously hidden. The Three Brothers were, in fact, enchanters. Perhaps the most skilled enchanters to ever walk the Earth. The bloody history of the wand is more than just the murders that cause it to change hands, but the swathes of people butchered when foul people wield it. Gellert's rein of terror is just as clear as the day it happened. The experiments conducted on the wand by Mykew Gregorovitch in various attempts to replicate the wands supposed unbeatable properties.

"Harry."

Elder, 15 inches and two tail hairs from a thestral. Antioch spent a combined 189 hours of labour on the wand's completion, spanning the period of 3 months. The information on my cloak clears up as the dates unfold. Ignotus and Antioch had both finished their masterpieces on the same day, I would venture a guess that Cadmus probably did too. The wand itself is more than just a powerful wand, it almost … subverts general magic to always 'win' or be unbeatable.

"Harry." I look up at Albus. At some point I'd fallen over. I make no attempt to sit up yet.

"I should've known." I laugh dryly. "I couldn't never quite place where I'd seen the colour around the wand before – Peverell purple." So much death. "The wand is supposed to only care about strength. It bonds with the strongest person it can, but whether that is raw power, or something else, I don't know." I hold the wand up for him. "I might have shaken it, but it still considers you it's Master." He looks very surprised as he accepts his wand. "I think I need a good lie down now, preferably on something that isn't stone."

* * *

743 years to the day. The Deathly Hallows. Rather than go to the feast, I've decided to wander the castle tonight. After a while I'd found Lily and James at a window, just staring outside. I've had a lot of information to sift through regarding the two Peverell heirlooms. One of the most prevalent and relevant is that Zaldimar one wielded the Elder Wand, using to to trick and slaughter pixies. I've not told anything to Hermione yet, mostly because if word got out that Albus had the Elder Wand, that would be incredibly bad. Not that Hermione would ever tell anyone, but there are other ways to steal secrets.

"Harry." Speak of the devil. I turn to Hermione. "Are you ok?" I nod, gesturing to Lily and James, invisible to her.

"I found my parents here." I explain. "The anniversary of it all. It almost makes me feel like I'm part of a family." I watch as their images dissolve.

"Sorry … The Aurors are looking for you." She says quietly. Aurors?

"Me? What's happened?" I turn to her, suddenly alert.

"Nobody knows." She says. "Professor Dumbledore came in with a man and a woman, Susan's aunt, and they were looking for you."

"That doesn't sound good at all." Very similar to the incident in my first year. We start to walk quickly. "How'd you find me?"

"Lee Jordan told me you were up here an hour ago." She seems to have no problem in keeping up with my gait. God bless all the stairs she walks. "Have you been up here this whole time?" She asks. I suppose I have.

"They didn't say anything?" I ask, dodging the question. She shakes her head. "Were looking to invite me for tea, or was is more serious?"

"The atmosphere wasn't particularly jolly." She says sarcastically. "You don't think there's been another attack, do you? Like last time?" They wouldn't come to me unless it wasn't possible for them.

"If Scrimgeour's gotten attacked again, I'll ring the man's neck. Who was with Madam Bones? The man."

"Er, long-ish dark hair. Tall and imposing..."

"A suit and looks like he's ready to be attacked at any moment?"

"Yes, but-"

"Scrimgeour is fine then." I scratch my chin as we approach the Great Hall.

"Be safe." Hermione kisses my cheek as we round the corner. Scrimgeour, Madam Bones and Albus walk through the hall towards us.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Albus smiles at Hermione as she retakes her seat.

"It's been a while, Auror Scrimgeour." I say as they reach me. "I assume the circumstances are not good?" He briefly looks at Madam Bones. Neither of them look happy.

"Perhaps we can explain as we walk." Albus says diplomatically. The two of them nod and we exit the hall."

"Earlier this evening, A man was brutally beaten in the alleyway beside Ollivanders' wand shop." Scrimgeour explains to me as we walk. "The man's name is Charles Spritz, he works in a sub-division of the Department for the Regulation and control of Magical Creatures. Specifically, the Goblin Liaison Office."

"And I assume that a Goblin did it? Or is thought to have?" I query. He probably would have told me his post in such a way if it didn't matter. "Which is it?"

"Currently the DMLE are not releasing that information." Madam Bones says curtly.

"Ah." I smile. "You don't know." Albus looks at me disapprovingly, but smiles. "Well, if you can't tell me that yet, What's the scene like?"

"The Aurors are keeping everyone out, the crime scene is currently on lock down, even for the press." Scrimgeour tells me.

"Crawling with Aurors." I nod slowly. "And any witnesses? Suspects?" This is all quite exciting. Unless it _was_ a Goblin, then the economy might collapse … We'll get to that later.

"There are 3 Goblins being held on site for questioning, they were found beside the man when the Aurors arrived." Scrimgeour sounds almost irritated as we arrive at Albus' office.

"Blood pops."

"And they claim to be innocent. Each says that they came across the man and tried to help." Madam Bones adds as we enter the large office.

"The Leaky Cauldron." Albus ignites his fireplace. It seems we are in a hurry. The two Ministry officials exit the room into the floo. "All set?" He asks me. I grin as I walk into the fire. After somehow managing not to smash my face on the floor, a flurry of cameras snap my way. Diagon Alley might be off limits, but the pub isn't.

"Mister Potter! Mister Potter!" They seem to call as one. I try not to scowl too much as I follow Rufus past the Aurors and into the Alley. As I'd joked before, crawling with Aurors turns out to be an apt description. Witnesses being questioned, Goblins arguing with each other. Gringotts Goblins look to be trying to talk to Aurors and Goblin Liaison officers.

"This is a fucking mess." I mutter. Clearly Gringotts hasn't taken lightly to what I'm sure have been plentiful accusations.

"Higgins." Scrimgeour waves an Auror over. A tall, overly muscled man comes over to us, towering above me. He must be about 7 feet tall. "Please introduce Mister Potter here to the Goblin Diplomat."

"Yes, Sir." He glances at me for a second and motions for me to follow him. "Try not to piss him off." He says to me.

"I'll endeavour not to." A few people frown as I walk through the Alley, or just stare.

"This is Mister ..." Higgins presents a very pissed off Goblin.

"Christ, Higgins." I sigh. "That was awful. You … Jesus. You don't introduce somebody and not know their name." I pinch the bridge of my nose. Tip of the spear indeed. "Just … go over there." I make a shooing motion, he seems oddly pleased to comply. I turn to the white haired Goblin. "Sorry about him." I hold my hand out. "Harry Potter."

"Grognak." He shakes me hand, he looks like he was going to snatch his hand away from my ring. His eyes narrow.

"Ah, you noticed." I hold my hand up, showing my ring. "I think Steelclaw out did himself." I smile happily. "Now, onto business. I'm not with these guys, not the Auror age y'see. I'm going to go and find out what happened to Charles, then we'll see if we can avoid a war." He grins, apparently appreciating the joke. "If it turns out that one of your guys _did_ whack this bloke, then we're going to be deep in shit." I say seriously and quietly. "Do you know what occurred here? I need to know if we're going to settle this peacefully." He seems to debate with himself for a moment. He leans in closer to me.

"All I know is that my three had been enjoying a drink. They told me that they came across Charles lying in a pool of his own blood." He sighs heavily. "It doesn't make any sense. No Goblin that knows who Charles Spritz is would dare lay a finger on him. He has fought for equal rights for the past 20 years, even being heckled by his own Government for some of his more outrageous movements." He looks around at the nearby Aurors. "Usually I would be dealing with Charles with this kind of situation, he is a good man, but as he is currently laying in a hospital bed, I am forced to deal with these people."

"But there is a chance that the suspects could have had a few too many and roughed him up?" I ask carefully. "Being intoxicated might have lowered their inhibitions."

"It is _possible._ " He says begrudgingly. I nod slowly. They will be executed if they did, they might be either way, but maybe I can shimmy us out of a war and not undo decades of Goblin relations work.

"Right, thanks for talking to me, I'll have a look around." He nods and I wander off towards the crime scene. I see Kingsley Shacklebolt blocking most of the entrance to the alleyway in question.

"I've been told to let you look." He says, his face is like stone. He turns and I follow him a short way to some bloodied cobblestones. I pace around the spot, nudging the odd spot with my toe.

"Have you met Tonks yet?" I ask him as I watch the ghosts.

"Tonks?" He nods once. "When she fully graduates the academy, she will be my partner."

"Oh?" I look over at him. He doesn't look like he's going to say any more. I think Kingsley is supposed to be one of the best, Nobody better to watch Tonks' back. I worry about her. "Well, It looks like we won't be having a war." I say. "Well, not with the Goblins anyway."

"Why is that?" Scrimgeour is now here alongside Albus.

"Just in the nick of time, Chief." I straighten up. "So, Michael McGregor comes out of the Cauldron and recognises Charles." I explain, waving my hand to the empty alley. "Now, being the racist and belligerent man he is, Mister McGregor decides to give Charles a beating. If he weren't drunk, he might of not done it. I suppose we're lucky he didn't draw his wand on him." The relief is evident is Albus' eyes. He accepts my word far before anyone else.

"Where do the suspects factor into this?" Scrimgeour asks, frowning heavily.

"They came in from the other end of the alley." I point down the road, the opposite way from the main Diagon Alley street. "They saw him and the Aurors turned up moments later. I'm not sure if they recognised him or not, they didn't have a lot of time."

"Do you have any proof of Mister McGregor's actions?" Scrimgeour asks me.

"With such delicate matters as a war or the collapse of the economy, I'd say pulling him in for interrogation. I'd recommend a drop of veritaserum, but I guess it's a matter of how quickly you want results." I finish with a smile.

* * *

"Not bad, eh Crookshanks?" I scratch the cat's head as he lazes on the Hufflepuff table at breakfast the next morning. Albus and I had left the alley quite swiftly after the decision was made to find McGregor, I didn't want to be photographed when they found out that the crisis had been defused. I suppose he had been drinking to celebrate Voldemort's downfall, a national holiday – My least favourite. So I can blame his drunk state on Voldemort. Fucking Voldemort.

"War averted, economy saved." Hermione sits down beside me with the Daily Prophet.

"I think they're exaggerating a bit personally." Crookshanks playfully swats at my fingers.

"Are you ok, Harry?" I meet her concerned eyes. "You've been … quieter lately."

"Don't miss a thing, do you?" I smile and return my attention to Crookshanks. "I disarmed Albus in a duel." I say quietly. "I caught his wand without thinking." Hermione rests her hand on my arm. "He hasn't been the only wielder, it happens sometimes."

"It's rare, but not unheard of." She nods.

"Let's just say that the previous owners were … not nice people, so now I have a very intimate knowledge of some pretty dark things. But, as Albus said, it's what I do with the knowledge that is important. From it, I know several ways to undo or repair any damage done by them. It's amazing really; Some of this stuff isn't even in medical journals that I've read."

"Will you tell anyone?"

"I'll probably get dragged along somewhere that my new found skills in healing will be useful." I laugh. "I also know of a way to bend a ley line. Oh, and 1 way to kill yourself whilst trying to bend a ley line."

"A ley line?"

"You don't know what a ley line is?" That's actually really surprising. She scoffs.

"What do you take me for? Ley lines form a web across the entire planet, they are said to converge beneath Hogwarts, which is why the site was picked."

"For it's magical hotspot. The wards can draw a huge amount of power from the ley lines and keep it almost impenetrable." I finish her recital of the book. "And what little project of ours will need a huge amount of power?" I watch as her brain kicks in to thinking mode.

"The fairy gold?!" She whispers as she leans closer. "You think you can use the ley lines? They say only masters of their fields can interact with a ley line. It's dangerous." She stresses.

"No more dangerous than trying to fucking _bend_ one, I'll tell you that for nothing." I grin.

"Language." She scolds as Crookshanks scratch my finger.

"You're looking at the newest master in the art." I say smugly. "I might've taken a few short cuts, but it's all up here." I tap my index finger on the side of my head.

"You seriously think you can use a ley line to make fairy gold?" She glances down the table to the closest person, Cedric, to confirm he didn't hear.

"With a little work."

"With a little work." She nods. "You've managed to alter the formula to accept something other than the stone?"

"Not exactly. I had to build from scratch, this way I won't be working with Nick's formula, but with my own – Which means I'll understand it better. So if anything goes wrong, I can fix it."

"You worked out a new transmutation formula for fair gold all by yourself?" She sounds surprised.

"Have a little faith. A philosophers stone and a time turner, it's not like I just _looked_ at them. I did absorb a hell of a lot from them." She rolls her eyes.

"Are you going to tell me anything more?" She asks impatiently.

"I'll give you it in riddles? Or maybe just in questions … Do you know where ley lines are?" I ask.

"Where they are? In regards to Hogwarts?" I nod. "Underground?"

"It's hard to feel them through the ground, even with my _abilites_. Ley lines are like lengths of rope, they go deep into the Earth's crust, but they aren't all at the same depth – That way, they can still deliver to hot spots on the top of mountains."

"The ley lines are _inside_ the mountains?"

"Exactly! They aren't flat, they can be deep or shallow. There is a spike just under Hagrid's pumpkin patch, so if you want to do a ritual or something, go there." I grin.

"So that's why they grow so well?"

"Probably. Anyway – The point is, most ley lines are far too deep to be reached -"

"What if somebody digs down to them?" She cuts me off.

"The line can feel that it's being breached and it retracts itself a bit. A raw ley line would be incredibly dangerous, and I think the planet knows that too, so it pulls them back a bit. Now, they aren't like a plug socket with massive voltage, unless you are really close to them." I explain. "Can you think of somewhere near here that might get us close to them?" She frowns as the cogs in her brain churn.

"The dungeons?"

"Deeper."

"But ..." She bites her lip as her frown becomes more pronounced. It's really distracting. "The Chamber of Secrets!" She gasps.

"Bingo." She's fantastic. "I was down there the other night with Crookshanks, we-"

"Crookshanks?"

"I ran into him on my way there, I thought you'd turn up actually." Crookshanks rolls onto his back, exposing his belly to my fingers. "Anyway, we went down into the Chamber. I haven't been down there since Albus and I saved Ginny, I'd managed to fight off going down there and touching every inch of the dirty floor. Salazar carved out huge swathes of earth and rock to make his little hidey hole. There is a large circular room that he built when all of the ley lines converge."

"The perfect place for … whatever he wants?"

"You remember that conversation I told you about? With the snakes?" She scrunches her nose. Snakes just get to people. "I think that the snakes are under the impression that their 'World snake', the giant serpent, is actually the ley lines. 'Gripping' the planet." Comprehension dawns on her face. "I don't know why, but the ley lines didn't retreat from Salazar. He built his den on _raw_ ley lines, They are touching the stones he used for the floor. I'm not sure if another site like it exists in all of Britain – Maybe even the whole planet."

"But Hogwarts is built on _seven_ major lines. You're saying that there is a spot where all seven converge? And they are barely an inch deeper than the floor?" She glances around again.

"A perfect place for powering a gold transmutation. So, power – What's next?"

"Obviously it needs gold to transmute." She says. "Where can you get some gold? It's expensive."

"Look under your goblet." I take a drink from my own to cover my smile. I'd slipped a galleon under that goblet when I'd sat down, just in case she asked that question. She picks up the coin.

"Why was there a galleon under my cup? Did you plan out this whole conversation?"

"Bits and pieces." I laugh. "Go on, Power and gold, what else?"

"Two measures of crushed pixie wings. One for the imbuement and the other to act as a catalyst." Her face drops slightly.

"The problem is finding them. The small amounts in circulation are highly regulated, and we can't just bust into the Ministry and nick all their time turners. The security would be impassable." I rest my elbows on the table. "I'd done some research in using fairy wings, but then that would yield _Fairy_ gold, which is where fairies draw their power from." I shake my head. "Highly illegal to give to a fairy, not what we're after. So, there are 2 realistic ways to get pixie wings. I can either smash your time turner with the hopes of not creating a time rift and destroying all of Northern Scotland ..."

"Harry!"

" _Or_ we can convince a pixie to help us out."

"A _pixie_?" She says incredulously. "How are you going to 'convince' a pixie to just hand over it's wings?"

"Promise it a cut of the gold obviously." I drum my fingers on the table. "That's the easy part, we still have to find one. I've only come up with one or two solid ideas so far, Hedwig is convinced she could hunt one down."

"Alive?"

"She said _hunt_ , so probably not. My less good idea involves a letter to Mr Diggory, which would no doubt put me a huge number of watch lists. Maybe arrested."

"Not such a good idea." She agrees. "And the other idea?"

"The Forbidden Forest." I grin. "I'm sure you know 'Hogwarts: A History' word for word. 'The forest plays host to many creatures, both indigenous and foreign species'." I recite. "So I'm pretty sure there will be at least one pixie that wants some fresh pixie gold. They could be very well off with even a small amount. I think that they have a sort of currency system going on and use gold dust due to the lack of gold in circulation."

"Is any of that relevant?"

"Kinda, The thing to take away is that I'm going to head into the forest tonight to look for one."

"You're going to do _what?!_ " She looks completely aghast. "Ignoring, just for a moment, how dangerous and that you would be breaking so many rules, you do realise what the current stage of the moon cycle is?" A grin spreads across my face.

"Hermione, you are without a doubt, the most intelligent, quick witted, beautiful girl-" She smiles. "-sitting opposite me." and rolls her eyes as I finish. "You even have the moon cycle ticking away in you head." She really is brilliant. "It's a full moon tonight..."

"Which is exactly why you picked it." She sighs and nods. "Of course you pick the worst day for it. Why wouldn't you?" She says, mostly to herself.

"It's the best day really. The forest will be buzzing with life – The perfect time to forge an alliance." I smile widely. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"I'm going with you." She says firmly.

"Are you sure? It's not exactly going to be safe. Full moon n'all that."

"Then why are you going?" She frowns.

"I don't have any other ideas." I shrug nonchalantly.

"What if something attacks you? _Us?_ " Crookshanks decides that he's had enough of me and climbs off the table.

"Hedwig's looking for you." I tell him. "Something about a rat." Crookshanks seems delighted.

"You would be the most dangerous thing in the forest." Hermione says. "Harry, What did you learn from Dumbledore's wand?" She looks worried.

"A great many things, not all good nor legal. If push came to shove, I wouldn't fear for my safety."

"What if there's a werewolf? It's a full moon and werewolves are class 5 beasts."

"I suppose I'd have to fight it."

"You're not talking about ..."

"The forest plays host to many animals." I grin.

* * *

"We should have spoken to Hagrid." Hermione says as she trails behind me through the closely packed trees.

"And then Albus would have known, then dissuaded me of trying for pixie gold." I duck my head under a low branch. "Mind your head." I say as Hermione gets a face full of leaves. Hopefully we don't run into Remus. He'd be in the Shrieking Shack tonight anyway.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Hermione huffs. It had only taken her tripping over twice to become more irritated than scared.

"A pixie ... Ah!" I rub my arm after a particularly vicious swipe at my arm. I look over my shoulder to see her glaring at me. "I don't know. A uh ... circle of mushrooms, strange rifts. Hey, if your time turner starts to buzz, let me know." Something growls nearby.

"What was that?" Hermione grips my arm as I raise my wand, lighting the area.

"A dog or something." I shrug and lower my wand. Probably best not to tell her what I this. "So, enjoying yourself?" I ask as we start to walk again.

"No." She keeps my arm entangled with mine, tightening it as a wolf's howl resounds around us.

"Should I answer?"

"That's not funny." She looks around us. "Can we just find a pixie and leave?"

"Don't be scared, it's just a little pooch." We stroll into a clearing beside a pond. "If you were a pixie, where would you hide?"

"Somewhere comfortable and _not_ in the forbidden forest." Hermione now has her wand out.

"Well I suppose you wouldn't make a very good pixie then." I mutter as I look around the clearing. The pond isn't very deep, probably a watering hole for the fauna.

"Harry." Hermione's sharp whisper draws my attention to a herd of Thestrals approaching the pond. "Something's under the water."

"Oh, Hermione." I smile. "If only it were that simple." The Threstrals carry on drinking as if we weren't here. "There is a herd of Threstrals drinking just over there, you can't see them?"

"No."

"So!" I say abruptly, causing Hermione to jump. "Ideas? We've a pixie to find." I flick my wand and cast a detection spell aimed at pixies. "No pixies."

"Do you know anyone that might know one? I can never tell if you're joking when you say you are 'well travelled'."

"Well." I let out a breath. "Steelclaw, the goblin, is probably a sworn enemy of pixies."

"Because of the clan?"

"Maybe. I'll write to him sometime, find out for certain. There's Hedwig." I see her silhouette fly above us. "But she doesn't really get along with food sized things." I laugh. "Dobby?"

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby appears about an inch from the water.

"Dobby!" I grin. The tiny beams up at me. I crouch down to be level with him. "How've you been keeping? Still working the kitchens?"

"The great Harry Potter knows Dobby's jobs!" He's shaking with excitement.

"OK, big question for you, Done." He eagerly nods. "I'm looming to make friends with a pixie, I'm wondering if, by chance, you happen to know one."

"Pixies? What does Mister Harry Potter want pixies for?" He asks inquisitively.

"I want to strike a deal with them, their wings for pixie gold. I think any pixie would jump on the idea."

"Harry, Could we do this somewhere else?" Hermione asks anxiously. "As thrilling as this discussion conversation is, it might not be the best place for it." A rustling of leaves catches accentuates her point.

"Dobby, get out of here." I straighten up quickly. Not needing to be told twice, he vanishes with a pop.

"Harry?"

"We are in sooo much trouble." I mutter.

"Harry?" Hermione whispers as she stands closely behind me.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck." I watch as a large grey-brown wolf comes out of the treeline. A werewolf.

"Harry." She digs her fingers into my arm. The werewolf growls. _Moony._

"I think our little trip is done." I take Hermione's hand and gently pull her along. I turn back for a moment. "This was my idea, not Hermione's." Moony growls again. "OK, OK, OK." We start to walk again.

"What's going on? What about the werewolf?"

* * *

" What were you _thinking!"_ Remus shouts at me. "The Forbidden Forest! At night! On a _full moon_." He stresses. "You could have been hurt, killed or worse. You. Could. Have. Been. Bitten. I'm not the only wolf in that forest, Harry." He stares at me over his desk. He had called me into his office calmly after the class, then proceeded to explode. I think he's more angry about what he could have done.

"I admit that it was reckless to bring Hermione with me. I suppose it's lucky it was you so nobody was hurt."

"Hermione?! What about _you?_ "

"I'd have been fine, it's Hermione that I would have been concerned for. Watching me fighting, or using my wand. She would never look at me the same again." If anyone was in danger, it was Moony. I'd do anything to keep Hermione safe.

* * *

"Ok then, Dobby. What's his name?" I ask the house elf as we sit by the lake. After Hermione and I let a few days pass after Remus, whom Hermione still doesn't know about, we reconvened and Dobby does have a pixie he knows.

"Baxter." He squeaks.

"Baxter?" Hermione stops her anxious pacing.

"A good name." I smile. I'd expected something more ... Mystical. "And when is Baxter going to show?"

"Baxters be being here soon." Dobby slaps his palms on his crossed knees as he sits excitedly beside me.

"Did you tell him anything?"

"Dobby bes telling Baxter to bring wingses, as Harry Potter sir asked Dobby to."

"Wonderful. Maybe Hermione will stop pacing about." I lay back on the sand.

* * *

"For what seem to be the hundredth time, Dobby, please explain to Baxter that we will split this coin." I hold the galleon between my thumb and finger. "In half once we convert it. I'm not trying to shaft him, this is just fair." For the past 10 minutes, Dobby and Baxter have been squeaking at each other whilst trying to negotiate. Baxter's doesn't speak English, but Dobby can speak pixie.

"Baxter be wanting less, as it is your goblin gold." Dobby finally makes sense of it all. "40%"

"Brilliant." I sigh in exasperation. "Ask if he wants to be there. Oh, and remind him that we will be in the snake chamber." Dobby nods and addresses the blue skinned pixie floating an inch above the ground. Baxter suddenly looks terrified and shakes his head vigorously. "A resounding 'No.' Then. I'll do the transmute and you can take Baxter's portion to him?"

* * *

"Harry! It's huge!" Hermione looks terrified and clamps her hands over her mouth as I start to laugh. "I didn't mean that and you know it!"

"My basilisk is huge, you said it first." I take a step away from her as she tried to hit me. "We've work to do, no more of this dirty talk." She looks even more flustered. I turn away from her and face the complex chalk patterns I meticulously planned out on the floor last night. They draw power from the potent ley lines and feeds the reaction steadily.

"Are you sure this will work? You haven't tested drawing power from the ley lines yet."

"Salazar could actually draw raw power from this location. He had this locket that could store the power for later use. I've got a fairly solid idea about mimicking the transfer into the formula rather than the locket. Basic stuff." I rub my hands together. "Oh, his office is down that pipe. Don't bother with any books that have a snake on the cover."

"Salazar Slytherin's office? Through this pipe?" She looks like Dobby.

"Yep. It'll probably be more interesting for you..." She's already rushed off. I toss the galleon into the centre of the room. The air is already humming as I skirt around the edge, ready to set off the reaction. I snuck in a few transfiguration strings to deface the coin into a blank disc once it's transmuted. I crouch down and hold my ring just above the chalk line. The 'On switch', which is extended outwards as I don't want to have pixie wings fused to my optic nerve or something stupid. "Excelsior." I mumble as I lower my hand.

* * *

"Did you know that the Daily Prophet sometimes call you 'Albus "Dumb-as-a-door" Dumbledore'?"

"I have read the term once or twice." He nods.

"Ungrateful bastards." I comment, leaning the armchair back on two legs.

"How so?"

"Whether you admit it or not, You've shaped this society greatly. Were it not for you, these people would be living in darkness. Many killed, imprisoned or, at best, prosecuted just because of who they were born. The laws you have helped pass, your unwavering stance that constantly benefits huge groups of the community, and that doesn't even count your position here as headmaster or the ah ... lost souls You've done battle with. They could be living under the sick rule of Voldemort or Gellert. But 'dumb as a door' saved them." I laugh. "Gratitude at it's finest." I look up at Albus' smile. "Of course it all sounds very glamorous when it's said like that. All the sacrifices that got us here." I gesture to the room. "Thank you."

"I don't think anyone has ever thanked me." He watches me for a few seconds. "None of my actions were for the attention of course, merely what I thought was best."

"For the greater good?"

"For the greater good." He smiles and nods.

* * *

"What will you do with it?" Hermione asks as I roll three fiths of a galleon across my knuckles. She has her latest potions essay spread out on the floor of the library, reviewing the final version as I laze beside her on my back.

"Sell it?" I suggest.

"Who would buy it?" She asks, not seeking to be paying attention.

"Gringotts. Steelclaw would love to get his grubby mitts on this." I smile at the thought of his greedy eyes bulging out. "I could give it to Baxter, tell him that I wish to give it as a gift to the pixies."

"They might start trusting humans again ... Or you at least." She muses.

"I'll add that to the 'maybe' list." I close my fist around the cut coin and look at Hermione. She's nibbling the end of her quill as her eyes dart over the various pieces of parchment.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind."

* * *

"Weasley Weasley." The twins whirl around and hide the piece large piece of parchment. "I think you, you and I have a discussion to have."

"How'd you sneak up on us?" Fred frowns ever so slightly behind the curious smile.

"How else could you prank the prankers?" I smile. "Prongs added a back door to the tracking so he could sneak up on Padfoot and the head girl." I shake my head fondly. "Anyway, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." I take a low, mocking bow. "Ronald has upset Hermione, Ginny said that the two of you would ah 'Set him right'." I smile widely as they adopt matching grins. "She said to just leave you to it so I don't hinder you. Oh, and imagine my surprise when I see you with a family heirloom." My smile widens their faces adopt a look somewhere between awe, fear and shock.

* * *

"I can't believe you told them to do that!" Hermione tries not to laugh as much as Ginny and I.

"I did no such thing ." I say innocently. "They got wind of what he said."

"And who told them?" She arches an eyebrow.

"Uh, That lights been me." I recline on my chair. I'm surprised Pince hasn't chucked us out.

"When will the tail go?" Ginny asks between bouts of giggling.

"Fred said he just has to apologise, George reckons it'll run out in about a week." This sets Hermione off.

* * *

"So here it is merry Christmas, everybody's having fun!" Tonks, Sirius, Ted and I sing at 'Merry x-mas everybody' as loud as we can in the living room of Grimmauld Place on Christmas day. Presents, music, dancing and drinking – All in all it's been fun. The other Tonkses joined us yesterday; A time for togetherness they'd said. With Ted's parents gone, leaving no grandparents for Tonks ... My Tonks that is, and everyone but Sirius dead on the Black's side, it's just us five. I think I prefer the small group anyway, it's a ... family? A slightly odd one albeit, but it feels right.

* * *

"So, what do you think of them?" Tonks asks me in the kitchen, them being her parents.

"I think your Dad and Sirius were made for each other." I laugh. "I pictured him more ..."

"Boring?"

"You did say he was pencil pusher in the Ministry."

"Yeah, well you put a few drinks in him and he opens up." She lifts herself up to rest on the counter as I open the fridge. "And Mum?"

"She looks a lot like Draco's Mum." Tonks wrinkles her nose. "I think she's the kind of person that names her daughter _'Nymphadora'_." Tonks grimaces and accepts the butterbeer from me.

"She can be overbearing sometimes, but I love her all the same." I open my bottle and hop up onto the side with her.

"'Can't pick you family' or so they say. "

"' _They'_ sound like an idiot." Tonks snorts, raising her bottle. "To the idiots."

"Idiots." I clink my bottle against hers and take a sip. "Spose You've heard about the Tri-Wizard tournament next year, haven't you?" I ask.

"It's sposed to be top secret, how'd you find out?" She looks at me curiously.

"Fudge was arguing with Albus about 3 weeks ago, I think interrupted them and Fudge left."

"Then 5 seconds later, you had the whole conversation?"

"Yep. Albus wants a minimum age on the whole thing, which he argues quite well, but Fudge ... Well you know what he's like."

"A twat?"

"Speaking ill of the boss, Miss Auror?" She snorts.

"Doesn't mean I have to like him just cuz he pays me. I think there's an unwritten rule about _never_ liking your boss."

"Enjoying it?" She let's out a sigh, resting her head in my shoulder.

"Bloody hard work. The eye isn't the only mad thing about bloody Moody either."

"Have you ever seen him in a huge fire fight?" I ask, she shakes her head slightly. "I saw him in action in Diagon Alley in the 70s. Mad fits him very well."

"Voldemort?"

"Fucking Voldemort." I raise my bottle with a very grin.

"Fucking Voldemort." She joins my toast. "That's the sort of thing i want to help stop."

"I think you'll be make a great Auror." I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "Might wanna veto those stealth missions though." She laughs. A twinkling sounds above us, we tilt our heads back to see.

"Mistletoe." Tonks whispers.

"Probably infested with nargles." I say, looking back down to Tonks.

"With what?" She tucks a stray lock of green hair behind her ear.

"Nevermind." I lean forward to meet her, setting my drink behind me. I lift my hand up to her cheek as the kiss continues. A tiny noise escapes Tonks' throat, I'm doing the something right at least. I pull my head back, or try to before Tonks draws me back in.

"I'm not done yet." The product of intoxication or not, that's one of the best things I've ever heard. Bless you mistletoe.

* * *

My brain slowly starts as I wake up, shaking the cobwebs off as I blink rapidly. Not human, but in bed all the same. I think this is the room Tonks uses ... I move my head slightly to confirm that Tonks is asleep on me.

"Stop wriggling." She mumbles, rubbing her face on my fur. I remember kissing in the kitchen for a while and heading upstairs, at Tonks' request, so we wouldn't get caught. After a while we'd gone to sleep, I've not slept as a human for a single night since I had the alternative. "You're not the strangest thing I've woken up to after a night of drinking." She laughs, patting my head. "C'mon, change back so we can talk." I change back with a bit more care than I usually would, Tonks comes to a rest with her chin resting on her hands in the middle of my chest, looking up at me. I can't help but smile back.

"Do you want to put some clothes on or something?" I suggest.

"I'm sure you've seen me walking around nude at home before." I smile and drop my head back against the pillow. "Do you always sleep with clothes on?"

"It's not like I'm wearing them as a wolf." I point out. She laughs, shaking on top of me.

"Down to the serious stuff though." She says. "What's going on with us?"

"I don't know really." I wrap my arms around her. "I like you, Tonks. More than just friends, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with feelings." I run my fingers along her spine. "I know how to fight and cast spells. I could beat the average wizard in a fight using only a wooden sword. But people? There's no short cut for that." She squeezes her arms underneath me, hugging herself to my chest.

"I thought you watched those ghosts a lot."

"Those are different people. I don't want to be anyone else, I'll use their skills, sure – but I like being me. I'd probably be like a miniature Albus by now."

"I like you as you too." She smiles up at me.

"And this naked thing?"

"A bit more than friends." She crawls forward and kisses me again.

* * *

"You slept with Tonks?!" Hermione, Luna and Ginny sit opposite me in our compartment in the train.

"Just sleeping." I say defensively.

"But you kissed her!" Hermione continues.

"There was mistletoe." I object weakly. I shouldn't be objecting if course, as it was brilliant, but an angry Hermione is never good. "Lots of people kiss under mistletoe."

"Were there nargles?" Luna asks, kicking her legs.

"I'd say yes, but that's only a guess."

Hermione doesn't say anything to me for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Hermione, please talk to me." We've now been back at school for six days and outside of curt replies in lessons, Hermione has barely spoken to me. I lean against the bookshelf as she returns her books to their rightful places, ignoring me as she does so. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I know I've done something, but if you don't give me any feedback I can't apologize properly." I tilt my head back and close my eyes. "I've barely slept or eaten, I just- oof!" The wind gets knocked out of me as Hermione squeezes me.

"Oh, Harry! You should have said something!" I encircle my arms around her and rest my chin on her head. God I've missed this. "Ginny said to make you squirm for a few days, I didn't think this would happen."

"Make me squirm?" Hermione pulls back and looks up at me.

"I was upset. I don't know why; Jealously or envy – I was confused." She looks down. "I was angry with Tonks and … I thought I'd lost you. It sounds so stupid to say."

"It does." I hug her again. "You'd not lose me even if you wanted to." She laughs.

"Thanks, Harry."

"And besides, if something did happen between Tonks and I, I'm sure she'd be willing to share with you." Hermione lets out a very unladylike snort. I've missed her so much.

* * *

"Ah, Valentines day." I lean on the table. "Got your eye on anyone, Draco?" I watch the couples from the Slytherin table.

"I wouldn't tell you even if I did." He says, scowling slightly.

"So there _is_ someone." I look away from him. "So, who is it? What are you after?"

"Potter."

"Long legs? Dark hair? Big tits?" He angrily eats his toast. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"You are impossible. Do you know that?"

"Nothing is impossible. Why, I sometimes I'd believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast." My eyes follow Hedwig as she enters the hall with a letter. "A galleon says it's for me."

"I'm not taking that bet."

"Spoil sport." Hedwig gracefully lands on the table and I take the letter. I open the envelope, which contains a single piece of folded card.

'Happy Valentines day'

I open the card and taped to the inside is a magical photograph of a smiling blonde laying on a bed with her legs resting just above her buttocks, very fine buttocks barely concealed under the night dress. The writing on the top half of the card reads:

'I charmed the photo to be repel water.

Or any other liquids'

"I thought you said you set up a jinx to reroute valentines post to your room?" Draco drawls. "Something got through?"

"I did, and nothing is wrong with it. Don't you recognise your own cousin?" I hold the photo for him to see.

"How can you tell? It looks nothing like she did."

"That's because she's laying in my bed. I know what my own bed looks like." I look at the photo as it winks at me. Very much a photo of Tonks. "I'll show Hermione."

"Do I even want to know why you said that?"

"I'm sure she'll get a kick out of it … You'll understand when you're older." I grin. He pointedly ignores me. I stand up and head over to the Gryffindor table. "Mornin', Ginny. Happy Singles day." I drop down onto the bench and pass the card to Hermione opposite. "Letter from Tonks." She opens it and immediately blushes.

"That's not funny."

"No, it's really from Tonks." I say as she tries to give it back to me.

"'Or other liquids'? What does she mean?" Hermione asks after inspecting the card again. Ginny has now turned a brilliant shade of red.

"I don't think I'm the right person to tell you." I laugh.

* * *

"Albus, Albus, Albus." I sigh as I drop into the armchair opposite him.

"Good evening, Harry." He doesn't look up from the paperwork.

"I don't want to interrupt you, but this is really fucking bad." I remove my glasses and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

"Is something the matter?"

"I just watched the single most horrific thing I have ever encountered. I won't beat around the bush, I've vomited three times already and I've really not got the energy left for this. I witnessed the death of Myrtle Warren and wished, not for the first time, that someone had strangled Tom Riddle as a child." I let out a deep breath again, feeling the bile rise again. "He used that murder to create a horcrux. I will just assume by your face you know exactly what that is. It was the diary, Albus." I look him straight in the eye as I put my glasses back on. "I never touched it, remember? Neither of us did. You levitated it to the basilisk and used the venom to destroy it, damn near the only thing capable of doing it."

"Harry..." He doesn't say anything else. This is one of the few times he has ever cried in front of my, or probably anyone.

* * *

"You can't go on like this, Hermione. You look like you haven't slept in weeks, This isn't healthy." I've just taken Hermione's quill as she was writing so she has to pay attention to me. "There's a reason that we only have 24 hours in the day, it's because your brain can only handle that many. You're under too much stress and you'll crash and burn, for what? A few more electives? Higher grades? You'll do perfectly anyway, unless you carry on messing with time."

"It's not worth it." She says, barely above a whisper.

* * *

"Are you doing to do this every year?"

"Do what?" I rock back on my chair.

"Revise." Hermione turns back to her notes. "Even Draco is." She points at the blonde boy. He's blocking us out with a charm, apparently my incessant babbling was off putting.

"I probably will."

* * *

 _'Werewolf at Hogwarts'_

Today's Daily Prophet headline is thanks to our very own Severus Snape.

"How did he find out?" Hermione limply holds the paper in her hands. "You said he was so careful when he was at school here."

"Not enough, obviously." I take the paper from her and walk towards Albus at the head table, ignoring the staring. "Factual?" He looks back at me with an odd expression. Sorrow?

"Yes." He says softly. I drop the paper onto the table and head out of the hall. Maybe Moony is still here.

"Lost your pet, Potter?" Snape. I turn round to face the smirking man. The things I could do to this bastard.

"I suppose you think you've been _so_ clever, don't you? Revealed the 'great secret'. You're a joke, Severus. Just a sour, petty, vile little man who cannot let go of the smallest grudge. Upset that he scared you in school? Tricked by the likes of Sirius Black? Lost the girl to that swine James Potter?" His hands are balled into fists as he shakes. "Even Wormtail was more important to your precious master than you."

"Silence." He draws his wand on me. I spread my arms wide and smirk.

"Go on, do it. If you think you're on top today. Do it!" He continues to glare at me with all the malice he can muster. "What is it? Performance issues? Wand not aiming right? It affects a lot of men your age, perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey." The tip of his wand glows. "Pitiful." I turn and walk, spinning around to swat the spell away with my hand. "Good effort, but you've just embarrassed yourself."

* * *

"I've found no evidence that he made any more of them." I explain to Albus. "But also nothing to suggest that he didn't. "The man, if he can be called that any more, was completely insane. It's a sick thing to do, but he may very well have another."

"Thank you for searching." He removes his half moon spectacles and rubs his eyes wearily. "The … incident with Professor Snape."

"You mean where he attacked me?" Albus nods his head slowly. "Illegal, of course, but I don't think he deserves the attention that comes with being fired. Although I would take great satisfaction in reporting that stupid twat-"

"Harry."

"-to the governors, I won't. You have some misguided use for him."

"Thank you." He looks amused. "Please refrain from goading him to such actions in future?"

"Cross my heart." I say, drawing an 'X' over my chest. He sighs in exasperation as I raise my hand from behind the chair with crossed fingers and a big grin.

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully this is as fun and interesting to read as it was to write, let me know what you think. Enjoy!**


	22. Chapter 22: Auror Tonks

**A/N: This chapter is a bit more ... adult? It's been a bit of a challenge to write as I think i'm walking a fine line between Mature and Mature-Adult. Perhaps my opinion of where this story will fit will change in the future.**

* * *

Chapter 22: Auror Tonks

"Inter-Species relations?" Sirius repeats after I use the term as an excuse for not explaining things to him. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, think of how tense things are between Humans and Goblins, for example." I say as we walk through London towards the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius is wearing his ever-present leather biker jacket.

"But you're not talking about Goblins, are you?"

"Nope."

"And you won't tell me?"

"Nope." I smirk as he pouts. "Did you get my letter last night?"

"You mean the one where you explain how you goaded Snivy into hexing you?" He laughs. "The bit about Peter was a low blow, How'd you find out about his little gang activities anyway?"

"It's like a big red glow under his sleeve. Then I asked Albus and he said I would find out myself eventually, so he told me the clean version himself."

"Just like that?" He asks as we enter the Cauldron.

"Imagine lots of sighing and tired looks."

"Ah." He nods in understanding as we pass some singing drunkards.

"How've you been keeping?"

"Busy with work." He adopts a wide grin.

"Urgh. I won't have any cousins running around, will I?" He throws his head back and laughs, drawing a few glances as we walk past the ice cream parlour.

"No, no. Not for a while."

"I'm not sure if that means 9 months or years." I shake my head. "Anything from Tonks yet?" The last 3 days of Auror training is one long 'field mission'. Nobody really knows what they have to do, but it's rumoured to be fire-fights and tracking. They are probably under a magical non-disclosure agreement for the whole thing. Tonks' test ended 2 days ago, so factoring in the 24 hour healing/recuperation and swearing in, she should be done.

"Nothing yet, which I reckon is good." He says. "If she failed, they'd have sent her back early." A strange way of looking at it.

"How's Remus doing by the way?" I lean against my front door.

"He knew it was coming. Said it couldn't last before the term even started, they'd have found out about him eventually." He says sadly. "He only hopes that he made some impact on the school's education."

"Well, he wasn't a fake or Voldemort – So he gets two thumbs up from me." Sirius laughs and hugs me.

"Come over tomorrow, we'll have a party for Tonks, I'll convince Ted and Andi to come back into Grimmauld Place."

"Alright then." I laugh. "And no strippers!" I call after him as he walks away.

"No promises!" He waves at me as he backs up. I shake my head and walk up the stairs.

"You in Tonks?" I call, despite knowing that she hasn't been here in 4 days. She might've come in through the window. I toss my shrunken trunk out of my pocket and drop into my armchair, leaning my head back. I had originally planned to meet Dobby here and then go to a pixie colony, but Dobby had explained that they wouldn't let me, a human, anywhere near it. So I entrusted what is probably the largest amount of pixie gold to be seen in centuries to Dobby so he can follow Baxter, to wherever it is that pixies live, and deliver the 50 converted galleons as a peace treaty. I've decided to keep my cut coin as a memento of my first success. I just hope that the pixies can see that not every human is Zaldimar. Even though I only touched the Elder Wand, I feel guilty about what he did.

I quickly leap off of my chair, whirling around to look at it. Tonks has masturbated whilst sitting on my chair.

* * *

Who knocks on my door at 8 in the morning? I stamp down the stairs, hastily buttoning my shirt up. By all means, come at 9 o'clock or 10! Even better. But not 8. I angrily yank the door open.

"Ye-" Flash. Flash.

"Mr Potter!" "Mr Potter!" Journalists? "Blah blah blah Animagus blah!" Shit. I slam the door closed. Shit. I look down at myself. No trousers. Shit. I walk back up the stairs. It wasn't exactly a secret, and I did get away with it for two years, but I didn't expect them to come hammering on my door … or maybe I did.

"Harry? Why did I have to kick some guy in the balls to get inside?" I spin round and pull Tonks into a hug.

"You're back!" She looks exhausted, but still has a proud smile on her face. "The buzzards just found out about my alter-ego." I shake my head. "But enough of that, Did you pass? Graduate or whatever?"

"You're looking at the newest, and best, Auror." She strikes a pose. "Passed with flying colours."

"So you tripped over and your hair did the rest?"

"Oh you cheeky bugger." She laughs, setting her bag down. "Where are your trousers?"

"I've only been up for like … 3 minutes." I groan. "That photo is going to be in the paper tomorrow."

"Which photo?"

"I answered the door like this." I gesture to myself, scowling as she starts to laugh.

"Witches Weekly too, oh they'll _love_ it."

"Bloody raptors." A yawn overtakes me. "I think I'll head back to bed. 8 o'clock." I grumble. "Sirius says we should celebrate later."

"A party?" She looks excited.

"Er, Surprise?"

* * *

I awake slowly and notice Tonks snuggled against my side. At some point after if fell asleep, she must have crawled into bed with me after taking a shower, judging by the towel wrapped around her – Or the towel that _was_ wrapped around her which has now mostly fallen off, leaving her uncovered. I must have been an angel in a past life to deserve this.

"I know you're looking." Tonks' mouth curls into a smirk. As I change back from the wolf, I end up eye level with Tonks as the familiar flood of information resumes.

"How could you tell?"

"Your breathing changed when you woke up and then, if you weren't looking when I said that, you would have looked." She's probably right.

"Are you not even the slightest bit conscious about being naked?" She rolls onto her back and folds her arms behind her head, taking a deep breath, which does wonderful things to her chest.

"Nope!" She smiles at me. "Can just get rid of anything bad." She scrunches her face up and morphs into a familiar blonde. "I call this one 'Alex', Hermione helped me come up with it."

"The name? Or the ...uh." I motion to her body. The smirk tells me everything I need to know.

"What time is it?" She asks as she jumps out of bed, stretching her arms above her head. Jesus Christ.

"Uh. 17 minutes and 12 seconds past 7." She picks the towel up and hangs it on her shoulder.

"Should've given Sirius enough time, right?"

"Hmm? Yeah. Enough time." I nod dumbly. She exits my room with her hips swaying slightly more than is strictly necessary. I drop my head back onto the pillows. This is torture, and we've got the whole summer to go … I'm completely OK with that.

"Hurry up and get dressed!" She calls out.

* * *

"You're late!" Sirius greets us at his front door with a grin.

"Late? We didn't agree on a time." I say as we cross the threshold.

"Semantics." He waves his hands dismissively.

"D'You even know what that means?" Tonks asks sceptically, accepting a hug from Sirius.

"Nah. Come on, come on." He ushers us into the, surprisingly full living room. I stop just past the doorway. How can I describe the occupants of the room? There's Remus talking to Ted, Andromeda and Hermione, whilst everyone else are … sexy policewomen. A large banner is hung above the fireplace reading 'Congratulations'. Tonks greets and hugs her parents, very proud looking parents, Hermione looks slightly flustered. It doesn't take long before Tonks starts talking to … models.

"Sirius, Who are these women?" I can barely move my eyes as one of the models. For some reason, allows Tonks to feel her chest.

"They work in the mansion, said it'd be fun if they came here."

"You paid them?"

"What? No! They wanted to be here." I look at him in disbelief.

"I was being serious when I said no strippers."

"No, I'm Sirius." He says before looking at me sternly. "And Harry, These are not strippers, they are classy models." We look back at the proceedings. Andromeda looks completely mortified as her daughter lifts her vest up to compare herself in a line-up of models.

"What do think, Harry?" She smirks.

"Sirius, is this a dream?"

"I ask myself the same thing every day when I go to work." He says sagely.

Only Tonks would start a 'measuring' competition at a graduation party with her mother as a guest.

* * *

"I asked her if they were fake, she said no, I called bullshit, so she said 'go ahead and feel'" Tonks explains after we sit down.

"An interesting way to start a conversation." I say, sipping my drink.

"They're models, it's how they talk. They're not Hermione." Tonks gestures to her.

"Oh, thank you for using me as an example for what models _aren't_." Hermione says with an incredibly sarcastic tone.

"Oh, honey, you just need to spice your look up a bit." Tonks grins. "Get the girls out." Hermione goes red in the face.

"I will certainly not … getmygirlsout." She stammers.

"Why not? I'm sure Harry would love it." They both turn to me. Oh shit. It's like they're pointing guns at me. Guns? Lady guns? No, no. Where was I?

"Err … Do what you're comfortable with?" I say carefully and quickly start drinking the butterbeer. Tonks rolls her eyes and Hermione smirks.

"I think Mum's starting on the sherry." Tonks groans, looking over her shoulder. "Maybe we should have a bit of a snoop around."

"Sirius, we're just heading upstairs." I call over to him, he raises his drink in acknowledgement. "How'd you end up here anyway?" I ask Hermione as we leave the room.

"Mist- _Sirius_ sent me an owl this morning, Mum drove me to the station and I took the tube." She explains as we climb the stairs.

"Still no floo?" Tonks asks. She shakes her head.

"One has to pass all kinds of tests to have a functioning fireplace in a muggle area. We are lucky because they wouldn't have to extend the network to Oxford, as it's already been there for a decades." She explains as we stop at a random door. I try the door handle, but it's locked. "Should we be rifling through the house?" She asks anxiously.

"Of course." I tap the keyhole with my wand and the lock clicks. "Draco's Mum used this room." I push the door open. "Oh look, it's unlocked." They roll their eyes and walk past me, not appreciating the joke. A large vanity desk sits opposite the large four poster bed. Green bedsheets and curtains.

"Very Slytherin." Tonks says, adjusting her hair in the mirror. Green curls. "So, what can you see?"

"Very much the same as you, I'd imagine." I say innocently. Tonks snorts.

"I mean what has happened here? Give us the dirt." She looks at me expectantly. Hermione seems to have just caught on.

"What do you want me to say?"

"That she's prancing around in the nude!" She is right of course. Narcissa used this room for over a decade. Thousands of iterations of her in various states of undress are performing a number of tasks around the room.

"Good genes." I say, my voice comes out a little strangled.

"Hah!" Tonks cheers. Hermione slaps the back of my head.

"Harry! Stop looking!"

"I can't really help it, she's kinda everywhere at once. Note that I haven't touched the bed." I don't think I could ever look Draco in the eye again.

"Next room!" Tonks grabs my hand and pulls me along. Tonks looks far more excited than she should be.

"What if it's your mother's?" Hermione protests. Tonks wrinkles her nose.

"Then we'll skip it." Tonks look at me expectantly. I sigh and lay my hand on he door.

"Bellatrix's." I say.

"Well come on, open it." She says impatiently.

"What if it's a trap?" She just rolls her eyes.

"Is it?" Damn it.

"No it's not." Should never have told them I could do this. Tonks shoos me towards the door. "Fine." I trace my wand around the door to remove the wards and dispel the chains on the other side. Damn Sirius and his old house. Tonks pushes the door open and the lights turn on. Much the same as Narcissa's, but with large mirrors along one wall.

"What can you see in here? Some weird shit? This is Bellatrix after all." Tonks, once again, uses the mirrors to inspect herself.

"Well, to put it simply, I'm struggling to stand somewhere that she hasn't lain on whilst … doing her thing."

"What?" Tonks looks confused for a second before her eyes widen larger than humanly possible. "You mean … all over the floor?" I nod and try to block out the noise.

"Her wand has seen some things, and I'm not talking about the killing."

"Harry!" Hermione looks like she's either about to burst or faint.

* * *

 **A/N: When Dobby returns, he will be bearing a gift from the Pixies, as a thanks from their people. I've been thinking hard about what it could be. My first idea was that it would be a looking glass that allowed others to see what Harry can see with his powers, but i don't really like the idea. Then i figured that Pixies would be in tune with nature, and animals - So perhaps something to allow Harry to directly talk to Hedwig more than how he can now. It's kind of clichéd, so i'm not sure what people think of it, Then there's the idea of giving Hedwig a human form, which i think would be frowned upon as i've done this before.**

 **Let me know what you think, i might do a poll on my profile if i can figure out how it works. I think the next chapter will be delayed somewhat whilst i decide what exactly is going to happen. Enjoy!**


	23. Chapter 23: The Locket

Chapter 23: The Locket

"R.A.B?" Hermione reads from the plaque. "Who is that?"

"Regulus Arcturus Black. Sirius' brother." I supply as we enter the room. "Sorted into Slytherin like the rest of 'em."

"So Sirius was the black sheep?" She asks.

"They were all Black sheep, Sirius was the only Black to be sorted into Gryffindor, or so he says." I explain. "He doesn't talk about him much. Sirius wanted to keep him away from their parents' influence, but he couldn't stop the path he was walking. Joined up as a death eater." The room is in perfect condition, no dust or mould in sight. A single 'Wimbourne Wasps' poster is on the wall by the window. Above the desk is a cork board loaded with clippings from the Daily Prophet, the theme is very apparent – Voldemort.

"Mum said he was always a bit weird. Spose this is what a Death Eater's room looks like." Tonks leans in to inspect the clippings.

"Looks like his closest friend was the house elf." I say, crouching down, much like Regulus did many times, to watch the interaction. "He looks stressed, the elf looks sick and frail." I turn my head and frown. "But he didn't always look like that … It's like he aged a hundred years in one night..."

"Kreacher." Regulus' apparitions' voice shakes. "Whatever happens, you _must_ destroy the locket." He stresses.

"Kreacher not bes understand." Kreacher croaks as he accepts the locket.

"Kreacher, my old friend." Regulus smiles and lays a hand on the tiny shoulder. "You've always been there for me, and when I needed you most tonight, you came." He withdraws and stands up again. "I need to go now, do not follow me this time … Remember what I've asked you to do." Kreacher nods and grips the locket. The locket. It's … _the_ locket.

"Oh my god." I mutter. Salazar's locket. "Kreacher." I call out. The old elf appears in front of me.

"Filthy half-blood calls for Kreacher?"

"Kreacher." I stare at him. "Regulus. He asked you to do something before he left."

"How does-"

"Please, Kreacher. Tell me if you've done it."

"Harry? What's going on?" Tonks asks. Kreacher's lip starts to shake.

"Kreacher could not. Kreacher tried to burn it, crush it, but no! Kreacher has failed Master Regulus! The Noble House of Black!"

"Kreacher." I put my hand on his shoulder. "Do you still have it?"

"Why does you want it?"

"Kreacher, Maybe Regulus didn't mean for you directly to destroy it, but to facilitate in it's destruction to the best of your abilities, then you wouldn't have failed, right?" I reason.

"Half-blood can destroy the locket? I nod. He looks torn, and twists on the spot vanishing.

"Harry?" I look up at Tonks.

"I can't explain everything right now, but this has to do with Voldemort." I straighten up. "He … He isn't dead, not yet, not completely. I need to …-" Kreacher returns, carefully holding the locket. I lower down to his level again. He says nothing as he extends his hands towards me, I take the locket.

Horcrux. Herman Matthews, a tramp, was used on July 16th 1946. Originally Salazar Slytherin's locket, purchased from a jeweller in Wales and enchanted to hold magic within. If worn by somebody that isn't attuned to receive from it, the locket will drain from that person. A side effect. This drain seems to have been corrupted by Tom and it nearly drove Regulus insane before he figured out what it was doing to him. It _really_ wants me to wear it, so it can create it's offence.

"I'll explain everything when the time is right." I say, kissing Tonks' cheek and hugging Hermione. "Thanks, Kreacher!" I call as I run out the door and quickly descend the stairs.

"Harry?" Sirius almost spills his drink as I run past him. "What's the rush?" I head to the floo.

"I need to see Albus, right now." I say distractedly. I grab a handful of floo powder. "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office." The fire goes green. Hopefully he hasn't got company, or changed who can enter his office at any time. I duck into the fire.

"Ah, Harry. What an unexpected surprise." Albus watches me as I stand up. He's behind his desk doing paperwork. I slap the locket onto the wood.

"It's a horcrux. One of Toms." I rub my hands on my jeans, trying to rid my hands of the filth. "He killed a tramp in 1946, used his blood for the ritual." I close my eyes. "He hid it in a cave. Regulus found it and tried to destroy it but he couldn't. It need parseltongue to open it. It was Salazar's." I open my eyes again. "His house elf, his best friend, being mistreated and almost killed by Tom. That was what it took to turn him against his Master."

"How did this come into your possession?" Albus asks after inspecting the locket for a while.

"It started with a room full of sexy policewomen..."

* * *

"And you do not wish to destroy it?" Albus asks me after my explanation as we walk through the castle

"I want to destroy the soul, or facilitate in it's destruction. But the locket? Well … you don't just find unique and stupendously powerful artifacts everyday." I rub my scar, which has been steadily giving me a headache.

"What do you propose?"

"I think I can reverse engineer the process he used on his diary to un-make the locket horcrux, or at the very least transfer it into something we can destroy." I inspect the locket closely, turning it in my hands as we walk. "Salazar had a few books that he recorded the process he used to create the enchantments upon the locket. With time I _might_ be able to duplicate it, but the planets would have to align, quite literally, to replicate the actual creation. With the knowledge of Toms creation of the diary and knowing exactly how magic transfers to and from the locket, I should be able to exorcise it."

"How did Tom know that the soul fragment would take to the locket?"

"He read the books too, otherwise his soul would have just bounced straight off. It's a tricky process to transfer magic into it." We enter the abandoned girls toilets. "Evenin' Myrtle." I call out as we cross to the taps. She is a bit scared of Albus. " _Open up."_ I hiss. The sink raises upwards, dropping the ever present dust onto the floor as the steps appear. We descend into the Chamber in silence.

"Tables?" Albus frowns as he looks around the cavern.

"Oh, I kinda use this place a lot." I say sheepishly. The various chairs and sofas are by the edge of the ley line convergence point. Books lines the shelves I've moved from Salazar's study. I set the locket down on the table as I slide the loose parchment around, or rather touch as many pieces as I can.

"Is this the basilisk's venom?" I look over my shoulder. Albus is standing by the set of shelves I've dedicated, or wish to dedicate, to the basilisk. The teeth and venom are all I've gotten round to removing thus far.

"I'm going to rend it down. It will take a while, but I think I can learn a lot about it's biology by doing so."

"Is there any way I can assist you?" He asks, now watching from beside me.

"I'm kind of freaking out a bit, truth be told." I laugh nervously. "How have you been since term ended?"

"Minor meetings to prepare for the tournament this year." He sighs. "I believe Cornelius is coming around where the age restriction is concerned. It is not just his decision, after all, there are other players in the game who hold the same sway."

"Fun." I say, picking the locket up again. "I think I can do this." I walk into the centre of the circle. "Er, best if you stay back." Positioning myself above the ley lines can allow me to fuel the process in case the horcrux fights back and push comes to shove, I'd prefer to have the Earth on my side. I also need to make sure that the locket doesn't pull from the ley lines to fight me. I take a steadying breath and draw my wand. " _Open_." The locket clicks open in my hand. The first shock is like a bolt of lightning running up my arm, straight to my head, like somebody has taken a cricket bat and cracked my skull open. I fall to my knees a second later. The horcrux tries to spring it's trap from the locket, but I instruct the locket's enchantments to not let any magic in or out, for now it is stable.

"Harry?" Albus looks like he is ready to jump to my aid. "Are you alright?"

"It's contained, for now. Both the locket and the soul are exposed now that it's open." I rub my forehead with the ball of my hand. "I can sort of … pull one out."

"The soul?" He calls out.

"Albus, what do you think happens if you have a soul flake floating around?" The memories of my encounter with Quirrell float to the surface. "I don't want two loose ends if Quirrell was another fragment." It would be so much easier to just destroy the locket. This is all very dramatic. "OK, I'm going to go for it."

Destroying the locket will be easier, I could always take the original enchantments off of it ... And put them onto my ring ... My mouth twists into a smile as I place the tip of my wand inside the locket, ignoring the constant thumping in my skull. A sound like creaking metal bounces around the chamber as the enchantments peel away from the locket. I have no delusions that if I were attempting this to anything _but_ this locket in this exact location, it would not work. The properties allow the enchantments to be take off much like it would with any other magic. A golden orb of magic forms at the end of my wand and slowly inches it's way towards my hand. I clench my teeth as the burning hot orb reaches my hand and screw my eyes shut as the sizzling noise reaches my ears whilst the enchantments set onto my ring. I snap the locket shut, throwing it with as much force as I can muster. I quickly let my wand go back into it's holster and slip the burning hot ring off my finger. Albus rushes to my side.

"Did it work?" I nod weakly as I nurse my burnt hand.

"Just drop the damned locket in one of the venom tubs." He stands up again. Note to self – Do not move mythical enchantments across bare skin. I loud screeching noise signals the death of the horcrux. I slap the palm of my good hand to my forehead as the pain bites at me.

"We need to have a long discussion whilst Poppy repairs your hand." I nod and retrieve my ring from the floor. The new additions have completely set in and the mithril is now cool to touch. Despite the pain, horcrux and insanity of what I just did, I can't keep the grin off my face. I've got a new toy.

* * *

"So the build up was for nothing?" Hermione asks as we sit in Grimmauld Place's kitchen. "Because you destroyed the locket anyway?" I'd bent the truth slightly when I told Tonks, Hermione and Sirius about the locket. I said that if it wasn't destroyed, Voldemort would be far more dangerous when he returns, which they all agreed was inevitable.

"I wouldn't say it was for nothing, I just changed tactics halfway through." I tip back on two chair legs. "Makes a much better story with all the dramatics." I laugh as Hermione rolls her eyes.

"So you nicked the enchantments from the locket?" Tonks asks sceptically.

"Which should be impossible." Sirius adds, taking another drink from his tumbler.

"If the enchantments are for moving magic, then it's a more possible type of impossible." I explain.

"So could you put even more over the top of those?" Tonks asks.

"What d'ya mean?"

"Like … load on more than one set of enchantments, Like a library of them or something?" I blink a couple of times.

"There would be limitations." I say slowly. "But I don't see why it couldn't hang onto more than 2 or 3." I raise my butter beer to my lips and smile. I've always liked Albus' shield ring.

* * *

 **A/N: The ring now has the functionality of what i'd written Slytherin's locket to do, on top of being Harry's alchemical catalyst. Unfortunately it is still just a single object, albeit a powerful one, it isn't going to become an alternative for a philosophers stone.**

 **This could have been merged with chapter 22, but i like to keep them at around this length. Enjoy!**


	24. Chapter 24: Politics and Pizza

Chapter 24: Politics and Pizza

"What do you 'spose would happen if I ran into a Dementor?" I ask Hedwig as she plays with the mithril ring whilst sitting on the kitchen table. "Centuries of horrific flashbacks?"

"Hoot." She spins the ring on the table.

"I suppose you're right, Sirius could teach me the patronus." I drum my fingers on my newest book. "Hopefully I'll never have to use it."

"Hoot hoot."

"Better safe than sorry." I repeat, nodding. She picks up my rings and trots across the table, depositing it in my hand in exchange for petting. After a couple of minutes, she decides to go hunting. "Have fun." I call as she launches out of the window. I stretch the mithril band to about 8 inches wide. I don't make use of the resizing ability very often, maybe I could use it as a bangle or wear it on my head. Not a bad idea. I lift the metal ring and place it on my head.

Knock. Knock. That'd better not be the bloody Prophet again. I stamp down the stairs and open the door. Albus … at my front door.

"Albus?" I frown. "What are you doing here?" Currently dressed in garish orange robes with black paw prints dotted across the fabric, he makes for quite a sight. "Do you want to come in?" I motion inside.

"Not today." He smiles. "Are you busy this morning? I believe I have something quite … fun lined up." Fun? I shrink the band back onto my hand and close the door behind me.

"Lead the way." He smiles genially as we walk.

"You once asked me to assist you in, ah, learning 'how the old farts occupy themselves'. In reference to politicians, I believe it was."

"And Filius spilt his coffee, I remember."

"Do you recognize the name 'Patrick Delacour'?" He asks me.

"Patrick? Err." I exhale and think for a moment. "Ignoring his brother for the moment, Patrick Delacour … 1994 March 16th Daily Prophet page 7 – 'French Diplomat Patrick Delacour sighted with Minister Cornelius Fudge' and then some speculation. So he's the French diplomat that lives here and acts as a back and forth? And another article in … 1987 I think it was when Allain was elected as the French Minister of Magic, they were pictured together." I squint as I try and recall the photograph. "The Minister's wife too." I shake my head. "Why do you ask?"

"Today, on the way to Gringotts, Mister Delacour was attacked, I believe the muggles would call it a 'mugging'." He looks amused as we walk to the crowd. "Consider this the first lesson – Be amongst it." The crowd parts like the Red Sea did for Moses. We pass through and enter the loose ring of Aurors. A healer is applying a thick yellow paste to Patrick's black eye whilst Minister Fudge faffs about with the press.

"Ah! Harry!" He turns his smile to me.

"Minister." I smile and shake his hand, he turns us and waves to the cameras. I can't help but smile genuinely at the absurdity of the action.

"May I introduce you to Mister Delacour, our Diplomat with France." He steers me towards the man, currently squirming as the woman applies the cream.

"It's gonna take longer if you keep wrigglin'." She says impatiently.

"Monsieur Potter!" His eyes make the common movement of flicking to my scar before moving back down to my eyes. He eagerly shakes my hand. "Eet's a pleasure to meet you."

" _Likewise, sir._ " I'm not sure which one of us is more surprised by me speaking French. " _You have a little something here._ " I motion to my won eye, grinning cheekily. He laughs good naturedly.

" _Yes, Yes. I was not expecting a sucker punch when the drunkard came at me._ " He smiles. " _Could we get a photo? My niece is a fan of yours. If it's not too much trouble."_ He quickly adds, looking worried.

" _No, no. It's fine."_ He looks relieved as we turn to the photographers. I smile and wave as the flashes fire off. Patrick walks over to the nearest photographer to retrieve the photo. He holds it up as the moving picture forms. My awkward wave and the paste over his eye. " _A story behind every photo._ "

"Perhaps we could return to the Ministry?" Fudge suggests.

"Of course." Patrick nods. "Accosted on my lunch break." We move through the parted crowd towards the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently just turning up can make me part of the Ministerial party. Kingsley Shacklebolt has join on by the time we reach the floo inside.

"Ministry of Magic, Atrium." Fudge intones, lighting the fireplace. We pass through into the grand, green tiled atrium.

"Mister Potter!" A surprised voice has me turning around. "Doris Lawry, My son was an Auror." She says, pulling me into a hug. "Thank you." She whispers.

"Glad I could help." I smile nervously as a few more people stop.

"Adam Vance, A pleasure, an absolute pleasure." Another man introduces himself and shakes my hand enthusiastically. A younger woman shoves him out of the way and curtsies, I glance over at the twinkle-eyed Albus. Bastard.

* * *

"Terribly sorry about that." Fudge says after we make it to his office.

"It was nothing. I'm just glad I didn't get punched." I smile as they laugh, none more so than Patrick.

Thousands of conversations are held in this office yearly. Many have started or ended wars, repaired friendships or passed laws. Money changes hands and not so subtle political manoeuvres are done so behind this closed door.

" _All I am saying is that I believe he would be a powerful ally." Lucius Malfoy drawls to Fudge's whisper._

" _You are directly suggesting that I manipulate the poor boy for my own gain." Fudge bites back with a raised voice. "The lad has been through enough. He needs no more deception than he will already encounter."_

" _When he is outwardly opposed to you, perhaps then we shall see who has had the last laugh." Lucius offers an insincere smile._

"I must be making my way home now." Patrick says, accepting a folder from Fudge with a smile. It contains various documents, including the location of 87 portkeys in France keyed to bring the World Cup goers across the channel.

"Of course, Of course." Fudge shakes his hand again. "Have a safe journey." I've always thought that is a bit of an odd thing to say to somebody that's about to use the floo, but I suppose the saying out dates the floo network. Patrick ducks into the larger fireplace. "The trans-channel floo. State of the art, or so I'm told." He explains to me. Albus bid us farewell, saying that he would leave me in more than capable hands.

"It's beautiful." I agree, watching the last flicker of Patrick's journey disappear from view.

"Drink?" I turn to see him holding a bottle of scotch.

"If you'll join me." I smile, leaning against his desk as he decants some into two tumblers.

"I know why Dumbledore brought you here." He says, handing me a glass. "You and I both know that in a few years you may well be seeing the insides of the Ministry much more often. Whether in employment, or as a member of the Wizengamot. It is a dangerous game to play, one must rely on their allies for support and I believe that Dumbledore sees this. Giving you a head start in the political ring without any of the pressure that comes with being a full part of it."

"To gain a footing before I need it." I nod, politely drinking the alcohol.

"Precisely." He says, staying quiet for a few seconds before pointing at me. "Do you like Quidditch?"

"Who doesn't?" I lie. He smiles.

"Who indeed? I might just happen to have a ticket with your name on it, if you've not made other arrangements." He says evasively with a smile.

"It'd be a shame if nobody were to use it."

"Exactly!" He passes me and rifles through one of his drawers. "I had to have enough tickets for every employee at the Ministry. The department heads could gain more for their family members if they so wished. It's been a logistical nightmare to arrange. Ah!" He plucks out a golden ticket and presses his wand to it. "Harry Potter." The ticket glows briefly as my name appears, he holds it out to me. "There we are. Just follow the signs to find the booth and I shall see you there."

"I look forward to it, Minister.

"Please, Just Cornelius."

"Of course, Cornelius." He smiles at me winningly.

* * *

"So you suddenly speak French?" Tonks asks sceptically as we sit in a grubby Pizza Hut.

"There've been a lotta people in Hogwarts, and some of 'em have spoken French, I reckon I've picked it up without really realising it. I think it has something to do with the speaker understanding what they are saying, and that sort of imprints on me." I shrug. "And add to it the Ministry, Diagon Alley and everywhere else I've ever been – That's a lot of language potential."

"Hmm." Tonks pensively sucks on her straw. I lift my own and pass my eyes over the restaurant. Tonks had the idea of venturing out into London for our 'date', nobody would ever look for me here and the Press wouldn't make a big scene in a muggle area so they won't be at risk of breaking the secrecy act, especially not with Tonks here. I freeze as I lock eyes with a boy staring at me from directly ahead.

"Oh god."

"What?" Tonks looks at me. We are seated side by side and she follows my line of sight. "Fat boy?"

"Fat boy's name is Dudley Dursley." I say, my voice comes out quietly. I look at the accompanying mass of flesh that makes up my Uncle.

"Dursley?" Tonks says dangerously, setting her drink down hard. I grab her wrist to stop her standing up.

"Tonks, you can't do anything to them. Not here." I say urgently.

"But the things they did … Harry." She tries to break free again.

"It's not worth it, Tonks." She turns to me, looking somewhere between upset and furious.

"They're right there – Everything they've done to you..."

"As much as I would like to cut them up into tiny pieces and flush them down a toilet, I'm not going. Besides, I think the over-eating will kill them in a much more satisfying way." I joke. She smiles too.

"Can we do something more … psychological?"

"Tonks, you can't curse the-" She pulls me into a kiss. Yep, this'll do the trick. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her along the bench. She smiles against my lips and wraps her arms around my neck, climbing onto my lap as she does so.

"Do you want to go fuck with his car?" She asks as we break apart.

"Was that a _with_ or _in_?" I ask.

"Which did you want it to be?" She smiles suggestively. I set a £20 on the table and take Tonks' hand, following the wide waddling whisper of Vernon outside and back to the car he'd came here in.

"Oh ho ho, a brand new Ford Mondeo." I remark as I run my fingers across the bonnet. Manufactured last year, very fancy. "What should we-" SMASH.

"Hah!" Tonks has just smashed the left headlight with her boot. "Do something with you ring, it won't count as under-age magic to the scanners." She tells me as she climbs up onto the bonnet, looking marvellous as she does so. CRUNCH. The wind shield now sports a tiny chip, Tonks quickly sets to work making it a large crack. I use my ring to scratch away a bit of paint, giving me access to the raw metal. If I thin out the metal, the whole car would be wrecked, and the extra energy as … heat.

"Tonks, hop off." She jumps down, admiring her work. I have the metal reduce itself to half the thickness, the whole car suddenly gets bathed in heat as the reaction throws out the extra energy. "Oh shit." I just back as the seat set on fire.

"BOY!" We look down he street to see Vernon waddling towards us. I take Tonks' hand as we run, trying not to fall over from the laughter. I just accidentally fire-bombed Vernon's car. We slow down as we get a couple of streets away.

"You set it on fire!"

"You started it, kicking in his wind shield."

"Hey, That's waaay different to setting it on fire." She says defensively, and correctly.

"I didn't really mean to, there was just a lot of energy that had to go somewhere. Better than an explosion." I point out as we turn onto the road where the Leaky Cauldron sits.

"We should do something special tomorrow." Tomorrow being my birthday.

"I'd prefer a nice relaxed day. No reporters beating on the door." I laugh. "Maybe a nice slice of cake?"

"You stay in bed, I'll get the cake then." She adopts a grin as we walk into the Cauldron. "And as it's your day, I'll have to be in my birthday suit."

* * *

 **A/N: Some stiff conversations along with stiff drinks. A little fiery revenge. Dobby returns next chapter**

 **Enjoy!**


	25. Chapter 25: Bird-girl

**A/N: What better way to introduce somebody than to have them appear naked in the protagonist's bed?**

* * *

Chapter 25: Bird-girl

"Harry Potter, Sir!" I almost jump out of my skin as Dobby appears after we reach the top of the stairs.

"Christ, Dobby. You frightened the life out of me." I clutch at my chest. Tonks snorts.

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable." She says, heading to her room.

"Right then." I herd Dobby onto the sofa and sit in my chair. "Did it go OK? I was starting to worry – You've been gone ages." This, of course, reduces him to tears as uses far too many words to describe my excellency. "Dobby, we've talked about this." He nods and sniffles.

"The pixie mens shouted and shouted at Dobby and Baxter. First they said gold was fake, then they wanted to kill Baxter and Dobby! Dobby be telling them gold is a gift, this made them strangle each other." His ears flatten against his head for a moment. "After the fighting, pixie men gives Dobby a present for the Great Harry Potter!" He bounces happily.

"A present?" I frown. "What is it?" Dobby shrugs his tiny shoulders and pulls a blue sphere out of thin air.

"Pixie men starts fighting before Dobby could ask." He trots over to me and hold the orb up. It's about the size of my fist.

"No idea what it is?" I ask before touching it, He shakes his head. He then drops the orb into my outstretched hand. Pixie magic in a solid form. 3 hours and 13 seconds old, but it's hiding itself much like my invisibility cloak did at first. Dissapointing.

"Neat." Tonks plucks the orb out of my hand and sits on my lap, hanging her legs over the edge of the arm as she hold the orb close to her eye.

"Well, thanks Dobby. I'd have never been able to get the gold to them without you." He beams at me. It's hard to really thank a house elf because it's so ingrained into them to not accept any material reward or verbal reward, so I have to manoeuvre it into saying how he's helped me. "I'll probably need your help again in the future, if you're up for it?" He nods enthusiastically before vanishing.

"A weird one, isn't he?" Tonks comments as she hands the orb back to me.

"Quite normal for the house elves I've met." The orb feels like glass and gets darker as it reaches the centre, blocking all light whereas the outside is mostly see-through.

"What is it?" She asks.

"Haven't the foggiest." I toss the orb into the air and catch it again. "Magical paperweight for now. It's kind of got a shimmer of pixie magic around it, but most of it seems to be … locked inside?"

"Well." She takes the orb and sets it on the table. "We can figure that out tomorrow." She smirks and slides her arms around my neck. "I think we were interrupted earlier."

* * *

I shrink down into human form as I wake up, yawning and stretching whilst my brain starts up. I bump my elbow against something.

"Mmm." A disgruntled groan. I turn to my left to see a girl, a naked girl, lying face down beside me with messy snow white hair spotted with black in places. I turn to my right to see Tonks sleeping soundly. I turn back to the newcomer.

"Err, Can I help you?" I ask after propping myself up on one elbow. The draw back of my ability is that it revolves around touch, which wouldn't be polite in this situation, although invading a person's bed isn't polite.

"I certainly 'ope so." The girls rolls her head to face me. Her eyes are a rich amber colour with wide pupils. She blinks owlishly. "If you can't, no one can." She stretches out in a catlike manner, kicking her legs above her a couple of times, before she sits up, not concerned by her lack of clothes as she stretches her arms above her head. She eventually stills and stares at me. Under some circumstances, I'd be happy to wake up with two beautiful girl sin my bed, but I would like to know who they are … maybe.

"Hedwig?" It suddenly hits me. She grins widely. If Tonks wasn't asleep behind me, I'd think she was currently playing a joke on me.

"Isn't this great?" She hops off the bed and grabs one of my discarded shirts, loosely buttoning it around her.

"Harry?" Tonks starts to wake up. Hedwig rushes around to Tonks' side and delivers a loud slap to her arse. Tonks makes a wonderful noise, but then shrieks when she realises who did it. I follow Hedwig out into the living room as she runs, laughing.

"How did this happen?" I ask, following the whisper as she walks backwards. The real Hedwig seems to have just tripped over and is now swearing colourfully at the coffee table. I pick up the pixie's orb from the floor. She touched this at 3AM and … transformed into a person.

"Found out what it does!" She says happily as she massages her toes.

"Clearly." I inspect the glassy orb closely."It doesn't even know what it did. It's like the instructions weren't there, but it was almost … designed for owls specifically. Pixie magic – Brilliant." I smile as I watch the transformation a few times. "Does it work both ways? Or are you stuck?" I turn my attention to the flesh-formed Hedwig.

"Oh-" She spins back into her normal form and the familiar presence of her mind returns briefly before she changes back. "It's amazing, Harry! I've got fingers, hair and legs!" She jumps up and down on the sofa.

"I don't even know what to say." She falls over the back over the sofa.

"I'm OK!" She pops up from behind the back, hair slightly more tussled than before.

"And you can just … transform into a human now? Just like that?"

"Well you did all stuff with the pixies, idiotically gave away a load of gold, so it wasn't just 'like that', unless you're disregarding all your work." She tries to do a cartwheel, but crumples onto the floor. "I'm OK!" I feel like I should talk to Albus, but I can't go running to him for every little thing.

"Hedwig!" Tonks, now dressed in another of my shirts, starts to chase Hedwig around the room, intent on returning to slap whilst a bright red hand-print is on her butt. This is the strangest and best thing I've ever seen.

* * *

"Harry? We were just going to come over." Sirius is wearing his jacket as he opens the old door.

"Yeah, something came up. Thought you might find it interesting." He waves us inside.

"Wotcher." Tonks follows Hedwig inside.

"Well, Happy Birthday!" Sirius hugs me and turns to Hedwig. "Who's your friend?"

"Is Moony about?" I ask.

"Just in the kitchen." We carefully walk past the noisy portrait so to avoid awakening her. "So, what's going on?" Sirius asks as we settle against various surfaces in the kitchen.

"Well … This is Hedwig." I gesture to the owl-girl, now dressed in some of Tonks' clothes. They both insisted that a vest and shorts were required for the warm weather. Arguing with either of them would've been impossible.

"You met someone called Hedwig?" Sirius asks.

"About 4 years ago." I say. "This is _the_ Hedwig."

"That's impossible." Remus turns his attention away from the newspaper.

"And yet, here we are." I shrug, leaning on the counter beside Tonks. "I've run all the general tests, everything comes back normal. All the human-specific ones came back positive, so they recognise her as human."

"May I?" Remus draws his wand. Hedwig nods happily and holds her arms up for some reason.

"Blood pressure, heart rate, iron levels – The whole blood works. She's completely healthy. Organs are all in place and functioning, her metabolism seems to be a touch higher than generally expected in a teenage girl, but that's negligible. Her hair is hair, nails are nails. Her skin's all healthy, albeit pale, and looks fine after … visual inspection." Sirius coughs to cover his laugh. Remus drops his wand after trying the spells himself.

"She's completely human." He seems a bit stunned as Hedwig spins round and turns into an owl again, if only to show off, before changing back.

"Ta da!"

"So she just _happened_ to turn into a person overnight?" Sirius asks sceptically.

"Something like that." I grin. "Throw in an orb that some pixies gave me, it's a recipe for this sort of thing." I gesture to Hedwig who is now trying to balance on one foot.

"An orb? From _pixies_?" Remus frowns. I toss the orb to him.

"It's exhausted itself now, just a pretty mantelpiece topper." I watch as he attempts a few scanning spells, which do nothing. It is pixie magic after all.

"Without knowing the nature of the orb, there is no way to know exactly what happened, or how." He give it to Sirius for inspection.

"From what I've gathered, it was designed to do exactly what it did – Turn an owl into a human, or rather add the ability to do so. The energy consumption would have been tremendous, but with the pixies it doesn't really matter." Remus scratches his head as Hedwig rocks back and forth on her feet.

"You have friends within Gringotts, correct? Perhaps you could arrange a-"

"Genealogy test?" I interrupt him. "Already done it."

"What did they say?"

"Well, It wasn't the Goblins, I did it myself. Much easier to use a few charms to find out things like that."

"A few … charms? There aren't any known ways to manipulate magic to test such things." Remus' frown becomes more pronounced.

"They're an uncommon set of charms." Mainly because of Gellert's work and a few other users of the Elder Wand. "But they worked, which surprised me."

"Because she's an owl." He nods.

"Hey!"

" _Was_ an owl." He amends.

"That's the real kicker." Tonks grins. "Go on, you'll tell it better." She nudges me. All eyes return to me.

"Because of the way the magic formed Hedwig's body, it used the first human it could use as a sample. So as I touched it, the orb used my DNA as a template, Her body and blood are an incredibly close match to my own."

"So she's your... sister?" Remus ventures. Sirius is just slack-jawed – Not an unusual expression for him.

"Sort o-"

"More like his daughter!" Tonks laughs halfway through my sentence.

"It's not like tha-"

"I'm his daughter!" Hedwig rushes over and hugs me.

"No, it's no-" I try again.

"Daughty daughter!" Hedwig squeezes me.

"Well we knew it'd happen some day." Sirius laughs. "But we didn't think it'd be on your 14th." Hedwig starts to sing and babble.

"...and we'll have loads of little babies like humans do!..." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"So as you can see, she's excited and _not_ my daughter." That's not how it even works. I prise her arms off of me and she rushes into the living room, the tell-tale sound of jumping, probably the sofa, reaches the kitchen. "She's not my daughter." I say after Tonks goes after Hedwig. "More like my clone or something, They've been teasing me about it since I did the test."

"What exactly did it tell you?" Remus inquires.

"It didn't make much sense on it's own, as the spells aren't exactly mainstream." Unfinished works of lunatics. "But with the orb and some _other_ searching." I say pointedly to Sirius, as Remus doesn't know about all the skills in my repertoire. "I could figure out that her body was created from my own, Lily and James' DNA sort of referenced as a very, _very_ distant relative. There was another set in her too, but that's probably just her own new stuff."

"Probably?" Sirius prompts.

"Well I'm not exactly a genealogist." I shrug. "Could be anythin'."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone that voted on the poll, I couldn't decide myself. As Harry's ability is based on touch, he has to be touching Hedwig to have their minds connect when she isn't in her avian form.**

 **Despite the teasing, No - She isn't actually Harry's daughter. Enjoy!**


	26. Chapter 26: More Hedwig

**A/N: I've been pretty ill recently so this one took a bit longer to do, Sorry! Long arse A/N at the bottom too.**

* * *

Chapter 26: More Hedwig

Cornelius had been more than happy to send me an additional ticket for the world cup, not even questioning that the requested name was simply 'Hedwig'. Albus has been incredibly busy in various places around the globe, but managed to find some time to see me. Now 2 weeks into Hedwig's rebirth. It's taken a while to explain everything to him, and then he exhausted his skills in magical scanning on the orb. We now sit in his office as Hedwig looks at the various ornaments.

"Truly remarkable." He says.

"We don't know what to do though. A whole person can't be kept secret. If we went to the Ministry to register her, the papers would know 10 minutes later, then tomorrow's headline would something witty and derogatory. I could go straight to Fudge to see if he'd be up for passing a law for … reverse-Animagi, which would still need supporters and then an examination from Unspeakables, which I … just no." I shake my head.

"Which leaves limited options."

"She's already too attached to being human to live life as a bird again, I'd thought that I might adopt her into my family as a last resort, I'd have to head the family and all that nonsense though." I look over at Hedwig as she inspects the golden cube on one of the shelves. "I would do it if it came to that, of course."

"Naturally." He's nodding slowly when I turn back to him. "Does she possess any magical abilities? What does she look like to you?" I return to watching Hedwig.

"The same green she's always held, I've often thought it to be an extension of my own colour, but I can't see my own obviously. It's the only thing I can find that sets her apart from an average human, the magic within her. I don't think she could use a wand, but she isn't without magic either. She's kinda bursting with it really, but not unstably, just plentiful. It's like a half-formed version of wizarding magic, but then there's something else I've not encountered." Albus frowns slightly as he enters his 'deep thought' mode.

"And nothing else sets her aside from the norm?" He asks.

"My burning ring!" Hedwig chimes in. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"I forgot about that." Albus looks amused at the exchange. "Have you ever heard of mithril coming into contact with skin and heating up, just for the one person?" I pose the question to him. "Some magical races have a similar thing happen, it varies between them, but usually demi-humans, or whatever the correct term is, have this reaction with mithril."

"I have heard rumours, but encounters are not commonplace with such a rare metal. 'The heat of a thousand suns' I believe the passage read." He smiles.

"Maybe high 80s, low 90s, Celsius of course."

"Not a nice thing to wake up to." Hedwig comments idly. Albus raises his eyebrow at me.

"I'll leave those questions unanswered." I smile at him. I offered to take the ring off when I slept, or wear it on my other hand, but Tonks and Hedwig decided to just swap sides instead.

"I could make her a ward of the ICW, this way she would not be subject to much scrutiny."

"Didn't the last ward of the ICW turn out to be Count Dracula attempting to invade a German nunnery?" I ask sceptically.

"Yes." He sighs. "But unless young Hedwig is Vlad in disguise, I don't think that will be an issue."

"You'd do that for us?"

"The wardship would only last for a three weeks, after that period is up, it becomes _much_ more difficult to prolong it. This should ah … buy you enough time, so to speak."

"Wow, I mean if it's not too much trouble. Three weeks would encompass the world cup too."

"Your timing is convenient, my next meeting is at the ICW to explain the security updates." He bunches together some parchment.

* * *

"How do you think she'll take it?" Hedwig asks as we walk down the road a fortnight later. The Knight Bus had dropped us off at the end of Hermione's street. It's very fitting, bordering on clichéd, that the Grangers live in Oxford. I think I'd be more surprised if she lived anywhere _other_ than Oxford.

"It'll be fine. Just hope that she isn't too engrossed in a book to hear the door." The road only has houses on the left-hand side, a large park and field features on the other side. Hermione used to walk along this path everyday when she would go to school before Hogwarts. The Granger household itself is a fairly plain but large building with hedges on either side, obscuring the adjacent houses. No car on the brick driveway, hopefully she's home. I knock on the door.

"Nice place." Hedwig whistles, looking around. The door opens after a few seconds.

"You're earl-" Hermione stops as she sees us. "Harry?" She darts forward and wraps me in a hug. "What are you doing here?" She is currently wearing a blue summer dress and no shoes, her hair is pulled back into a loose pony tail. She looks amazing.

"Expecting company?" I ask.

"Ginny." She shakes her head and waves us inside. Hedwig mouths 'Ginny?' to me as we follow Hermione into the living room.

"This is Hedwig by the way." Hermione spins round looking surprised.

"I'll get us some tea."

* * *

After some tea, biscuits and questions, Hermione is up to date on the situation.

"Why didn't you write to me?" She asks.

" _Somebody_." I look at Hedwig. "Wouldn't carry a letter for me." Hedwig grins.

"What's it like? Having a human body?" Hermione asks her.

"Fantastic!" Hedwig says happily. "The food is better, Harry and Tonks let me sleep with them too."

"In a platonic way." I add hastily. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Did you have to learn to walk?" Hermione asks.

"At first I was tripping a lot, so Tonks had to teach me to walk."

"Tonks?" Hermione snorts. "I don't think she is the best teacher for walking."

"She's more qualified in the 'learning a new body' area." I point out, taking another biscuit off the tray. The Granger house is neat, but not clinically clean. Very well lived in.

"And she taught me to kiss!" Hedwig bounces on the sofa. "I asked Harry, but he said no." She pouts. I declined the request three times before Tonks decided to step in. Along with the clothe-less walking lessons (Something about seeing the muscles working), I think they were just doing it to mess with me.

"So, you're expecting Ginny?" I ask, eager to steer the conversation away.

"Mr Weasley has an extra ticket to the world cup, so Ginny asked me if I wanted to go."

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch."

"I might not have the chance to do it again, The experience is apparently one of a kind." She says enthusiastically.

"So you're turning an international sporting event into a learning experience?" I smirk as she rolls her eyes. Hedwig jumps up off the sofa.

"Where's ya toilet?" I drop my head into my hands.

"Try again." I sigh.

"Oh, _Excuse_ me Hermione, may I use the rest-room?" Hedwig says dryly, curtsying.

"Upstairs, on the left." Hermione suddenly looks startled. "Wait! She can't do what you can do, can she? Touching things I mean."

"No." I say, biting my lip to not laugh as Hedwig skips out of the room. "It means a lot that you let me into your house at all, I wouldn't go wandering into an even more personal space."

"Thanks." She smiles. "So … Hedwig ..."

"A piece of work." I lean back against the sofa. "She's a bit childish, but I think she just has to get more experience with people. I've been doing my best to help her, but then Tonks comes home and her lessons are obviously far more … entertaining than my own, so she develops bad habits."

"She's close to Tonks then?" She looks interested.

"She's been attached to my mind for most of her life, it'd be hard for her to not like her. She wanted to tackle you to the floor, probably steal a kiss or two if we'd come over last week." She blushes. "We both agree that you look nice today, blue is your colour."

"How can you tell what she thinks?" She tries to ignore the compliment.

"As an owl, we have a direct telepathic link, but it requires touch when she is human." I explain.

"Which is why you had your arm on the back of the sofa, so her neck could lean back?"

"You're too smart for your own good." Hedwig returns, flopping onto the sofa. "He can drop memories into my head too."

"Memories?" This seems to catch Hermione off guard.

"Yeah, I have to strip away all the whispers and stuff, else it'd be hellish cacophony to anyone but me, I told you what happened when Albus tried to view one of mine in his pensieve?" I smirk.

"You said you had to help him stumble into the hospital wing, clutching his head." Hermione frowns.

"I did warn him." I laugh. "I think the same would happen to Hedwig, but it's a load easier to clean them up for her as it doesn't require any external manipulation."

"What's the deal with Ginny, then?" Hedwig asks.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowns.

"She means how is she doing." I amend.

"I think her eyes have fallen on that Dean Thomas boy." Hermione scowls.

"Jealous?" I tease.

"No! He's part of Ronald Weasley's little gang."

"I meant jealous of _Dean_."

"What are you insinuating?" Hermione's eyes narrow.

" _Should I push it?_ " I ask Hedwig through her neck.

" _Do it._ " Something akin to a mental smirk.

"I think this is the first time I've seen you in a dress, maybe it's just coincidence." Hermione ignores me and gathers the mugs back onto the tray.

" _You don't think..._ " Hedwig trails off in her mind.

"Have you had that talk with Tonks yet?" Hermione calls through from the kitchen.

"I've been putting it off." I admit uncomfortably. 'The Talk' about my relationship with her. There are a lot of factors that complicate things, and with all the excitement that Hedwig brought along, I've not made time to talk to her about it.

"It'll only get harder the longer you leave it." Hermione, quite correctly, tells me as she returns.

"I know, I know. I just don't want to mess anything up, I like how we are now." I let out a resigned sigh and lean back.

"She thinks the same thing." Hedwig says. "Although I don't think she'd be opposed to you sleeping in human form." She smirks.

"Human form?" Hermione queries, looking confused.

"I still sleep as a wolf." I explain. "We just sleep in the same bed, no funny business."

"Unless you count the snogging." Hedwig adds.

"I only change back when I wake up, it's not like we've been going at it like rabbits since school ended." I snort.

"I thought you two were um..." Hermione trails off.

" _Fucking?_ " Hedwig ventures, but not verbally.

"Intimate?" I offer, sending a playful glare at Hedwig. Hermione nods.

"He's just our bed warmer." Hedwig says, throwing her arms around my neck.

"'Our'?" Hermione raises an eyebrow teasingly.

"Waking up underneath two naked girls isn't the worst thing in the world." I grin, Hermione rolls her eyes again. "Why are you seeing Ginny today?"

"Have you gotten your supply list yet?" I nod. "We need formal clothing, Ginny doesn't know why but she thinks Mr Weasley does. So we are going to Diagon Alley to pick out my dress." Ah. I should pick up a suit at some point. 30 galleons or something.

"You should go with blue." Hedwig says happily. "Maybe I should get a dress too! Can I, Harry? Please, pleeeease?" She sticks out her bottom lip. Damn it.

"Sure."

Whipped.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know what you think of this one, a taste of things to come in the future.**

 **I've been getting a lot of questions about the pairing(s) recently. Whether it be Harry and Tonks, or something else. One thing that's been mentioned is a multi pairing. I've never actually written anything like it before, even in my non-published works. It (to me) is an incredibly complex thing, having each 'member' care for each other and them being comfortable with everyone. With Harry/Tonks/Hedwig it's very simple to do, as Hedwig is very much a product of Harry's mind and her 'upbringing', if you can call it that, has been heavily influenced by her feelings for Tonks and of course Tonks herself. The three of them slot together and would be comfortable to write when Harry overcomes his hurdle of sleeping as a human and with a similar amount of clothing to Tonks and Hedwig tend to wear. I don't see them getting into a super serious relationship for a few months _as least,_ despite how long they've known each other. I've got a soft spot for Fleur, so we'll play that by ear. Harry might steal a few girls away into broom cupboards this year too.**

 **The next thing is the problem of Barty Crouch JR. Harry would very quickly realise that he is not Moody, a day at most if he isn't paying attention, so i could either have the other two schools turn up waaaaay before their canon date of October 30th(?) so that they are there at September 1st. I do't think Harry would let Barty impersonate Moody for any length of time either.**

 **Sorry for the ramble, I'm a bit stuck as to how to handle this part. Tell me if you've got any ideas and, as ever, Enjoy!**


	27. Chapter 27: Relationships

Chapter 27: Relationships

After a brief explanation to Ginny, we ride the Knight Bus into London and pass through the Leaky Cauldron, drawing a small amount of attention.

"Harry!" I get engulfed in a hug as we pass through the entrance to Diagon Alley. There's only one extremely tall woman enjoys squeezing my head to her chest... That I've met anyway.

"Tonksie." I use one arm to hug her before she pulls away. The 7 foot tall Amazonian morph is my handy work. Muscular with dark hair – I named her 'Diana'. Tonks was initially uncertain about the idea, but once we worked out the finishing touches, she took my advice of using it to intimidate people when she needs to. Another guise for her 'Auror forms'. The fact that she's also drop-dead gorgeous is just a bonus. "Shack." I smile at the tall man, dwarfed by 'Diana'.

"Mr Potter." He offers me a nod.

"Wotcher, 'Mione, Hed." She sweeps the pair into a hug too. "And Ginny!" She almost bounces on the spot when she sees the redhead.

"Hey, Tonks."

"You've grown so much!" Tonks scrutinizes the girl in front of her.

"You've met before?" Hermione asks. Luckily the shoppers seem to be minding their own business.

"Yeah, back when me 'n Charlie were mates, I used to go to the Burrow sometimes." Tonks explains.

"And then you stabbed a fork into his leg." I mutter loudly.

" _That's_ what that scar is?" Ginny bites her lip as Tonks grins smugly.

"What're you lot doin' 'ere anyway?" Tonks asks us. "Naked sleepover at ours?" She smiles lecherously.

"Hermione needs a dress for this year, Hedwig asked for one too." I explain before Ginny faints from her blush.

"Oh." Tonks pouts. "Just us three then." She sighs dramatically.

"We'd best get going, leave you to guard the Alley." I motion to the crowd, Tonks bends down and plants a kiss on my cheek. "See ya around, Shack. Probably somewhere dangerous." He smiles good naturedly in return.

* * *

"How about this one, Harry?" Hedwig asks for what seems to be the 50th time.

"Oh yeah, it's beautiful." I say through closed eyes. I _did_ watch the first 20 or so, but then I found this comfy chair to relax in, linking my fingers and resting them in my lap.

"I think it makes my boobs look good, but it's a bit tight." I crack one eye open to see Hedwig turning on the spot with Ginny giving the strapless pink dress a critical eye.

"I thought you've already tried that one on." I lean forward onto my knees.

"What? It's not even similar." She huffs. "The trim at the bottom couldn't be _more_ different." Of course it couldn't.

"Silly me." I mumble, leaning back in the chair again.

* * *

"Come on, We're done." Hedwig kicks my foot as she and Hermione leave the fitting rooms.

"About time." I grumble, patting the elder man's shoulder that has been keeping me company. "Good luck with the Missus, Henry." I nod to the woman surrounded by shoes.

"I'll be lucky if we make it out of here with less than 10 new pairs! Hah!" He starts to laugh rambunctiously.

"Which did you decide on?" I ask as we head to the front.

"It was a close call, but this one was too cute not to pick." Hedwig proudly holds up a black dress with a silver stripe down the side. I'm sure there are countless things that make it different to the multitude of other black dresses. Hermione _has_ gone with the blue. 23 galleons lighter, we cross the road for ice cream.

"Are we just going to ignore those people watching us from across the room?" Hedwig asks before slipping her lips around the ice lolly.

"Probably just goons from the Prophet." I say. "Don't pay them any mind unless they pull out a camera."

"They actually follow you around?" Ginny asks, taking a sneaky glance across the parlour.

"Yep. Caught me with no trousers once."

"I saw that one." She bites her lip to hold the laugh.

"I had a few polite letters sent to me after they published that one." I begin to finish off my cone.

"I told him to take them up on the requests – Models get paid nicely AND you're the boy who lived." Hedwig nudges my ribs.

"I'd prefer not to be oggled any more than I already am, thanks." I laugh. "I don't think the life of a model is for me after Hogwarts."

"After Hogwarts? What is your plan?" Hermione prompts. "You've never really talked about it." I lean back in the booth and fold my arms, considering the question.

"I'm not sure really. I'd love to travel the world looking for lost magic. Be remember like Newt Scamander, but for ancient magic. Make contact with long lost or hidden magical civilisations, learn their history and how they can shape magic – the feats they can perform. I'd love to go to Egypt, look around the tombs or have a dig around in Pompeii, Travel through the Amazon too. Maybe write a book to teach people and, knowing me, be chased, attacked, imprisoned and a whole host of other things in my pursuit of knowledge." I finish with a smirk.

"Modest goals." Hedwig adds. I jog her hand, forcing the lolly into her mouth. She smirks and pushes it deeper herself.

"Of course you've not got a gag reflex." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Found out a few days ago. Tonks said you'd enjoy it, but I'm not sure what she meant." Hedwig says innocently, but she knows. Hermione almost chokes on her ice cream.

* * *

"Hi, Tonks!" Hedwig wraps herself around Tonks after she gets home that night. "Ergh, you smell like old socks!" She wipes her now sweaty hands on Tonks' robes.

"Had to chase a guy through Knockturn Alley." She lets out a deep breath. "Good stamina."

"Catch him?" I ask as she press a chaste kiss to my lips on her way to our bedroom.

"Tripping jinx, face planted." She smirks. "I'll take a shower." She grimaces as she sniffs herself whilst she strips her sweaty clothes off. I turn my attention away from the Rubik's cube whilst I watch "Diana's" sweaty muscles ripple. "Enjoying the show?" She puts her hand on her hip. I exchange a look with Hedwig.

"Yep." We chorus. Tonks rolls her eyes.

"Bloody pervs."

"Have fun!" Hedwig calls out.

* * *

"Ahhh." Tonks drops down onto my lap wearing nought but a towel and her pink haired form. "Never underestimate a good shower." She snakes one arm behind my neck and takes a fistful of my shirt, pulling me towards her for a kiss. "Harry?" She rests her forehead against mine.

"Mmm?"

"What are we?" She asks.

"In an existential way?"

No." She laughs. "I mean me and you." Hedwig clears her throat. "And Hedwig. Get over here." Hedwig drops her magazine and settles on the other arm of the chair. They smile at each other.

"You saved me popping that question." I squeeze Tonks' thigh. "I was going to ask a few seconds after you did, but there we go." I exhale slowly. "How do we do this? I guess I'll go first." I drum my fingers for a moment. "There's a part of my ability that lets me get a read on people. I was 11 when I found out about it as I shook hands with Albus for the first time. I don't use it much because I really have to focus to get it to 'activate' – It's one of the only voluntary things I can do with my ability, but that's only to get it to turn on straight away. If I stay in contact for a few seconds then it starts up and happens anyway."

"Unless it's me." Hedwig chimes in.

"Exactly." I nod. "So then I met this strange, beautiful and clumsy metamorph that loved to hug me, I had this part of my ability start to switch on again, but rather than dusty old Albus, I had the happiest person on the planet to give me a daily dose of it." Tonks smiles and kisses me again. "And, even though we're separated when I'm at school, being here with you makes up for it all. I know what love feels like to you, when we lay in bed in the mornings I can feel it flowing through you as you smile and kiss me, but it's a bit harder to understand my own feelings. Despite that, I can say with certainty – I love you." Her violet eyes widen a tiny bit and a beautiful smile spreads over her face as she tears up. The violet fades into a bright green, much like my own, as she swiftly moves forward to capture my lips.

"Harry!" Kiss kiss. "I-" Kiss. "-love-" Kiss. "-you-" Kiss. "-too!" She sinks down onto my lap as she hugs me tightly.

"Awh!" Hedwig claps excitedly.

"I've wanted to tell you since your first year, but I couldn't bring myself to do it." Tonks pulls back, still smiling widely. "You were so young, but only to look at. Your eyes and the way you walked kinda creeped me out a bit, but you were so funny and charming. Those little off-handed compliments every time you saw me that you didn't even think about." She laughs affectionately. "When we were sitting on the carriage after Christmas, I just wanted to grab your cute little face and kiss you." She accentuates this point with another kiss. "And now you're a hot piece of man meat, I can." She turns to Hedwig. "And then you came along as a squishy and less brooding version of Harry... with some 'Tonks' chucked in too." She smirks.

"Oh, thanks." I say dryly.

"You know it's true." Hedwig pats my arm in a placating manner.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it. Although it probably has something to do with being my familiar."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you were 'my owl', so it was ingrained within you to help me, perhaps your magic thought the best way to achieve this was to be another … happy thing to touch?" I smile. "I can't really describe it."

"I'm all too happy for you to touch me." Hedwig leans down to kiss me. Sometimes it pays to be Harry Potter.

"Wait, so it's a loop?" Tonks pipes up, now sporting the same hair as Hedwig. "You're happy because we're happy, and we're happy because you're happy?"

"A loop that I want to continue to feed." She smiles back at me as I gently squeeze her hand. They settle their heads on my shoulders.

"Scrimgeour told me that I'm to be an interior guard at Hogwarts this year. He didn't state it aloud, but I think it's because I can _blend in_." She sighs.

"Or the students that remember you will respond better? You'd still be a brilliant Auror without being a metamorph." I press a kiss to her temple.

"Does this change anything? I mean … are we together?" She lifts her head to look at me.

" _Would_ it change anything if we were?" Hedwig asks, lacing her fingers with mine.

"It would be one of the most narcissistic things possible – Me falling for my familiar, or something akin to a clone." I laugh. "I'm willing to give it a go if we carry on as normal. I think this has built up to a 'thing' without a label, so I don't see why we would suddenly do anything different."

"Well I'm shattered." Tonks says, now a perfect duplicate of Hedwig.

"Off to bed?" I look at both of them in turn, They nods sleepily. I stand up, lifting them both easily.

"We can have some fun with being lifted some day." Tonks whispers into my ear huskily. Wolf strength. Thanks, Sirius. "Can _you_ sleep with us?" It's been years since I've tried sleeping with my powers on. I lay the matching girls on the bed. For them?

"I can try."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not great at this sort of thing, let me know what you think. The World Cup is on it's way. It'll either be chapter 28 or 29, depending on if something else comes up.**

 **Harry, as is his destiny, will get a bit whacked during the riot, i'm sure. Enjoy!**


	28. Chapter 28: Wolf Hunt

Chapter 28: Wolf Hunt

"Maybe after the World Cup, we can go to Ollivander and see if you can use wands." I suggest to Hedwig a couple of days before said event.

"I doubt I can. You said so yourself." Hedwig is lying on her back in front of my chair attempting to solve my Rubik's cube.

"I said I wasn't sure, but it wouldn't hurt to give it a go."

"Urgh." She lets out a frustrated sigh. "It's not fair, you cheat anyway." She lets her arms fall down beside her.

"I _can_ solve it with gloves on-" Knock knock. "Just when I thought it'd be a peaceful night." I sigh, standing up. Hedwig follows me down the stairs. "Albus?" He is not happy.

"A manhunt." He states simply. Oh shit. Uh … duh duh duh … Full moon.

"Werewolf?" I ask, he nods. "Give me a second." I spin around to face Hedwig. "Stay here, I'll be back soon."

"But-" She begins to protest.

"No." I say sternly, cupping her cheeks with my hands. "Please. I need you to be safe." She begrudgingly nods. "Thank you." I kiss her.

"If you die, I'm going to find you in the afterlife and kick your arse." I grin as I back out of the door, we set off at a brisk pace.

"Fawkes?" I prompt.

"Not in a fit state." No nonsense. What's going on?

"This isn't good, is it?"

"I believe you will be the most capable for this task even if I were there with you." His eyes watch the late night shoppers as we walk.

"You won't be there?"

"Not tonight. My presence may jeopardise the task at hand." He sighs. "Fenrir Greyback has been sighted in Britain."

"Greyback. Notorious and savage werewolf, preyed upon children to raise in his back in the 70's. Mass-murdering maniac by day, hairier doing the same job on the full moon. Reported to have vanished in 1981 thanks to yours truly. He was the one that infected Remus." I rattle off my profile quickly. "I'm to assist the hunt?"

"Precisely. Should I be spotted amongst the team, or were my scent to be caught, he would no doubt flee."

"Understandable." We pass through the Leaky Cauldron.

"He has been tracked to a forest and was discovered amongst a massacre site, muggle hikers." He says grimly. We duck into the apparating alley beside the Cauldron. "The whole area has been warded to contain the situation, no apparating directly in nor portkeys of any kind. The DMLE wants this dealt with tonight." I grab onto his arm to apparate. It's unnerving to see him like this – The way he acted during the war. We twist into nothingness and reappear a moment later in darkness. My eyes adjust quickly and we begin to walk again towards the tree line.

"Mister Potter? What is he doing here?" A tall man frowns. Dark hair. He looks behind him at his team of Aurors and approaches us out of hearing range of them. "Dumbledore, The Minister said you were getting your best man to assist us. We are not going to be able to baby sit him."

"I was asked if I knew of anyone, anyone at all, who could track Greyback. Mister Potter is the most capable young man I know, he will be no extra trouble. You must trust him." Albus lays a hand on my shoulder, I look up at him briefly. The look seems to say 'I will be the one baby sitting them'.

"Fine. We move in shortly." Albus nods and apparates away. "Lives are at risk here." He scrutinises me. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"I do." I rub my hands together and follow him to the others.

"Ok, listen up." They turn their attention to the boss, Robards. "This is Harry Potter, our tracker. I've been told by the Chief Warlock to trust him implicitly. Greyback is a dangerous criminal and we _must_ keep our wits about us. Tonight he will be at the peak of his abilities in his own environment. Keep a sharp eye out and listen for orders. If Potter says duck, you flatten like a pancake. If he says form a human pyramid, we will." The team chuckles grimly. They seem to have only been told they were being assigned a tracker. 7 of us in total. It doesn't seem like enough. Robards finishes his pep talk and turns to me. "Once we cross this ward line, there's no going back." I nod sharply.

"Take me to the muggles, I need to use it as a starting point."

* * *

"You're an animagus, right? A wolf?" Robards asks me as we travel through the trees. We are spread out a bit, but still in talking distance.

"That's right." I don't look at him as I'd rather not take my eyes off of our surroundings.

"And that's how you track?"

"Something like that." My smirk goes unseen in the low light.

We come across a red trail path, although the red is clearly blood. The strewn body parts and torn clothes make it hard to tell how many people were killed, but the larger chunks further away, torsos, mean that they tried to run. I transform quickly and make a show of sniffing various parts of the ground. I spin back into a human after a long and distant howl reaches us.

"The good news is that I can find him." I say, drawing my wand. "Bad news – He's toying with us. We are being hunted." I turn to the team and walk across the bloodied ground. "What tools have you got?" I gesture to the bags they carry.

"Reinforced chains, cuffs and nets. The beacon for the others to pick us up err." The man digs through the bag. "We all carry silver darts to banish at targets and-"

" _Silver_ darts?" I smack my forehead. "Let me see what you carry them in. Please." He, Marcus, looks at Robards, who nods, then hands me a long pouch. Tanned leather, 8 inches long and not enchanted. Bloody hell. "Greyback can smell silver from a mile off. Don't you have a special task force to combat werewolves?"

"No, not really." Robards shifts a bit as I stare at him. The others continue to watch the trees for movement.

"Great." I pace around, running my fingers through my hair before transforming again. "He's getting closer, I can smell him on the wind." I say after changing back. "If we'd done this right, you could have hidden so he wouldn't have known where to find us and we could've caught him by surprise." Another howl. "Ill equip and being hunted. We are sitting ducks."

"Spread out, wands up, people!" Robards calls out. "Deadly force _not_ authorised. We need the target alive." I'm working with employees of a bunch of imbeciles, these guys are hardly at fault for their superiors decisions.

"We don't have a lot of time." I mutter, pouring the darts onto the floor and kneeling down.

"Potter, wand up! We don't need a tracker any more, but another wand would be useful." He growls. I bend the first dart into a ring and hold my ring to the break. There is a spark and the two ends weld together. I thread the next dart through the ring and repeat the weld, slowly forming a silver chain.

"500 meters." I say loudly. The air prickles around us.

"Incoming!" One shouts, firing off a spell as I stand up. A dark mass darts out of the trees and knocks the Auror down, quickly evading another spell and leaping at another. I launch the makeshift silver chain with a _depulso_ and it smacks against the werewolf's torso, but not coiling around. He gets knocked away, giving us a moment to breath. I fire a blasting hex at the downed wolf, but he recovers and the tree explodes behind him.

"Robards, either you kill him or he _will_ kill someone here." I stress as Greyback darts towards me. I wait until he is a couple of metres and hit him with an _impedimenta,_ freezing him mid-leap, before firing a powerful banisher at him, hurling the large wolf into the distance. "Robards!"

"Absolutely not!" He shouts. "Form up around Edwards!" The others form a circle around the downed man, hovering their hands by their silver dart pouches. Greyback reappears from the trees and dives at the bundle of Aurors. I see his jaws bite down on the woman's arm and fire a cutting hex. It skims just past the snout and severs the arm. Fuck. This. I spray fire out of my wand straight at Greyback, it snakes around the Aurors as I approach, forming a wall around us and Greyback. I crouch beside the woman, now cradling her arm, as the others fire various hexes at Greyback.

"Give me your arm." I say gently, prying her hand away from the stump. It hit perfectly and cut cleanly just above the elbow. If she's lucky, the virus didn't spread fast enough and, as it was just a _diffindo_ , they can regrow the arm. If she's not so lucky, they can still regrow the arm. I flick my wand and seal the skin up – A temporary measure, but she won't bleed out. I whirl around spread the fire more, setting the trees on fire and using charms to knock the trees down, creating a wall of burning wood to trap Greyback, and us, in the area. Albus isn't going to be happy with the wide area damage, but better this than an Auror dying.

"What are you doing?! We'll roast alive in here!"

"You said no deadly force." I snap at Robards. "So I'll do your damn job for you." I snatch his bag of chains and lay a cooling charm around the Aurors before transforming into a wolf and jumping through the flames.

"Grrrr." Greyback growls as he watches me. The clearing is surrounded by tall fires, we are trapped in here … but he is trapped in here with me. He makes the first move, jumping at me. I transform in a split second and, now being much smaller, he sails over me. I flick my wand and some of the burning logs shift around, rolling towards each other and forming into a large golem whilst Greyback recovers from his failed attack. I'd be an idiot to fight him as a wolf when I have an alternative.

"Rwaaaa!" The golem lumbers (heheh) forward and swipes at Greyback, who deftly dodges the, purposefully clumsy, transfiguration. I could kill him in a hundred ways, shatter his skull or transfigure a spike from the floor, cut his head off or crush him, but they want him alive, to pay for his crimes. God damn it. I hear a noise behind me and side step, avoiding being crushed by a burning tree. Greyback takes this opening to leap at me.

" _Accio!_ " I can't help but shout the incantation. The silver chain hurtles through the air like a speeding bullet and wraps around Greyback's neck as I point my wand at him. I note that my golem falls apart whilst I retrieve the chains from Robards' bag. The ministry buys these from a company that manufactures enchanted chains and other such things. Greyback writhes on the floor, gnashing his teeth as the silver burns his skin. I flick my wand and the chains coil around him. I turn my wand skywards – This is a terrible idea, but if I don't do it then the muggles will see the smoke and be suspicious. " _Tempus pluvia hic est, tempus pluvia hic est, tempus pluvia hic est._ " My wand kicks back as I stop chanting, knocking me onto my back. Very tiring. The spell roughly translates to 'This is the time for rain'. Whilst not a true weather-modifying charm, it does cause a lot of rain, but without the clouds. The first few drops land on my face as I lay on my back. I grope for my wand and make a large sweeping motion to extinguish as much of the fire as I can before holstering my wand and closing my eyes.

Class 5 magical creature. I'm not getting paid enough for this shit.

"There we are, Mr Robards." I shout. "Activate that damn beacon and put more chains on our friend here-" I cough as a sharp pain heads through my chest. I open my eyes to look down at my now bloodied hand, I hadn't noticed the scratch on my chest. Must've been from when he leapt over me. All of this damage because they wanted to carry silver with them. I hear them jingling chains about nearby. One of them kneels beside me, I open my eyes. It's the woman that was bitten. Fletcher.

"Thank you." She says, still cradling her arm. "I know why you did this-" She motions to her arm. "-and even if it doesn't work, I appreciate your efforts."

"At least it wasn't your wand arm." I push myself to sit up and draw my wand again. "Give me some light."

" _Lumos_." She mutters, casting a small shaft of light onto me.

"Chest." I say as I unbutton my shirt. The cut starts just below the bottom of my sternum and extends up to my left collar bone. Thankfully werewolf claws are really sharp, so the skin was sliced and not torn. "I don't think you are infected." I tell her as I retrieve a silver dart from the pouch. "If you were, I wouldn't have been able to seal that wound without silver. I admit that I'm not an expert, but your heart wouldn't have even managed a single beat in the time it took to remove your arm, but I might be wrong." I hiss as I massage the newly powdered silver into my cut, no sense in bleeding out. It's not particularly deep, but most of the blood is being washed away by the rain. "Dittany?"

"The extraction team will have some." I nod and lay back down in the mud. That rain dance really took it out of me. "You made it rain." Fletcher, Joanne Fletcher, says in what appears to be disbelief.

"Stranger things have happened." I say, watching as the wards peel down from the sky. So tired. I close my eyes, I've earned some rest. I get shaken a minute later.

"Potter." A gruff voice. Moody. I open my eyes and am treated to a more close up view of Mad-Eye than anyone would ever want. "And get that wand away from my throat." I blink and realise that my wand is pushed into his chin.

"Shouldn't wake somebody asleep in the mud." I grumble, sitting up again. Albus is over with Scrimgeour and the other Aurors. Fudge himself is even here.

"Shame you weren't up when Albus was giving 'em a good bollocking." Moody laughs and helps me to my feet. "Silver in open storage." He scoffs. "Not in my day, no siree. Nice catch on that one." He slaps my shoulder as we join the others.

"Are the others OK?" I ask, causing Albus to smile and nod.

"The healers agree that you have saved Miss Fletcher a great deal of grief by removing her arm." His eyes twinkle. "Are you well?"

"All good, Chief." I give him a lazy salute. "Remind me to thank whoever sealed my cut." I trace my finger across the scar. "I have to ask though, Why send 6 Aurors after one of the most dangerous criminals in the British Isles?" I pace around a bit, absorbing Albus' 'bollocking'.

" _I understand that most of the forces are tied up with the world cup, but had it not been for the actions of Mister Potter, we would have been burying six fine Aurors." Fudge looks flustered at the speech and Albus' disapproving look._

"I know the Aurors are spread thin." I try not to smile. "But if Greyback had gotten to the World Cup, the damage he could cause with a wand..." I trail off as Madame Bones arrives and approaches Fudge.

"Minister, your presence is requested at the Ministry." She says quickly. Fudge looks relieved to get away from us.

"Dumbledore, Mister Potter – Thank you again for your services!" He calls out as he retreats after Bones. Albus lets out a sigh.

"Well … Never a dull day." I bite my lip as I smile. "Could you take me back to Diagon Alley? I have a feeling the more painful part of tonight awaits me at home."

* * *

 **A/N: Shoulda been out yesterday, but i rewrote it, sorry! The first edition just wasn't good.**

 **Let me know how you think Harry did. He didn't want to pull out the big guns because a lot of what he knows how to do is dark _dark_ magic, which isn't something any sane person would use in the company of Aurors. So he got another thing to his name with the detainment of Fenrir Greyback and hey, chicks dig scars.**

 **The Ministry is comprised of idiots led by idiots.**

 **Enjoy!**


	29. Chapter 29: The Burrow

**A/N: Been a bit busy. That time of the year, sorry! Hopefully this chapter isn't boring and answers some questions.**

 **Remember that this is Harry's story told from Harry's perspective, so his 'love-life' is a big part of life.**

* * *

Chapter 29: The Burrow

" _25,000_ galleons?" Bill lets out a low whistle.

Following the somewhat fabled defeat of Fenrir Greyback, I was awarded an Order of Merlin, Second Class, and 25,000 galleons for the bounty, which is a sizeable chunk of money. Hedwig had been upset, but had brightened up a bit by the next morning after keeping a death grip on me all night. Her mood further increased when Hermione and Ginny showed up with Arthur Weasley in tow asking if I wanted to accompany them to the World Cup tomorrow as Hermione had told them that I had tickets too. We figured it would be nice to catch up with Fred and George, Hedwig is beginning to experience cabin fever even though I've said she's free to go into Diagon Alley. We took the floo to 'The Burrow', which is a fantastic place, and I met every single Weasley, Percy had to nip off to where ever swiftly after greeting me. We didn't have much interaction at Hogwarts, but he seems alright. Charlie is a burly and energetic bloke, full of smiles like the other Weasleys and the resident 'Dragon-man'.

I started talking to Bill when Fred, George, Ron and Charlie decided to play Quidditch outside. Luna, Ginny, Hermione and Hedwig sat in a loose semi-circle atop a hill a little way away whilst Bill and I sat at the edge of the 'pitch', leaning against a short stone wall. Luna is here just to visit, she isn't going to the cup.

"Not bad, eh?" I smile. Bill and I had hit it off pretty quickly. I asked him about his work and asked a lot of casually worded questions to hide my enthusiasm for what he does. Tearing apart wards, setting them up and picking enchantments to pieces is fascinating and not documented well in the Hogwarts library. From the Elder Wand and my parents' wands, I know a thing or two about a few dark ones and how to disable some stuff, but when it comes to the real work, even the Elder Wands' users weren't practitioners.

"Any plans for it?"

"I'll save most of it as I don't really need anything right now … might treat myself to a balcony for my flat though, I'll write to Gringotts sometime." A balcony – That would be cool. Bill slides away from the wall a bit and lies down, resting his arms behind his head.

"Well you definitely earned it. Fancy being an Auror after Hogwarts?" He asks. I snort.

"At this rate, I'll be one _before_ I graduate." He laughs and nods.

"Sounds like it's heading that way."

"I think the hours are too long and I'm well acquainted with how much paperwork they have to do after living with an Auror all summer." I watch as Charlie does a particularly daring manoeuvre to dodge around Fred's attempt to steal the Quaffle.

"Ah yeah, Gin mentioned you were living with Tonks."

"More like she's living with me." I laugh. "Simple two bedroom flat, serves us well enough."

"Nice to have your own place I bet." He says. "What _do_ you plan to do after Hogwarts? Assuming you don't get knocked off by a basilisk or whatever." He teases.

"The old cliché of 'travel around, see the world' I reckon. Machu Picchu, Pyramaids, The Amazon and whatever the hell is going on in China. There's so much out there, but maybe something more practical like ..." Brainwave! "A wandmaker."

"Wandmaker?" He looks up at me. "Sposed to be difficult."

"What isn't?" I grin. "I've been learning to figure out what wands are made of, which I reckon is the first step, y'know?" I lie smoothly. If I can coerce Bill into letting me peruse his wand, not only will I gain a lot of knowledge of his work, but also his duelling if he's any good. Oh, and I can tell him what the wand is made of to keep up appearances.

"You can do that?" He sits up, looking surprised. "Wanna give mine a shot?"

"Might as well, practice makes perfect." I shrug. Victory. It's not really a bad thing to do, right? I accept his wand with both hands. "Mmm … Beech?" I venture, screwing my face up in mock concentration. Bought it from Ollivander in 1982. "Err it looks like 10 and a quarter inches." He really is a remarkable person. His knowledge of wards and enchantments appears to be vast and, from what I've found out in the past, the Goblins actually respect him for all that he's done. He's got 127 Egyptian tombs under his belt and thousands of objects that he's stripped down. He gets paid for each one he does, so it's a side-earner for curse breakers. "I'd say unicorn hair." I hold out his wand for him. Mission accomplished.

"That was pretty cool." He grins.

"Thanks for letting me look." I smile.

* * *

After Bill is called inside by Molly, Hermione breaks comes over for a chat, hugging me tightly, or perhaps trying to strangle me.

"You need to be more careful. Fenrir Greyback is a murderer and you could have died."

"And I stopped-" She holds up her hand.

"Whilst I understand that you have almost no regard for your own well being when it comes to helping others, you need to think about how it affects those around you. I was worried about you, and I only found out _after_ you'd done it." She sighs. "What did Tonks say?"

"She was worried, but glad I made it back in one piece." I explain. "She understands that I can't _not_ help with things like this. I don't know if it's an obligation to myself, maybe because I have so much to offer, but I have to do it, even if it's dangerous. Tonks knows this and supports me, but also pulls me out of my funk when I stare into a cup of tea for 3 hours." I lean back against the wall and look into the sky.

"You love her, don't you?" Hermione asks quietly.

"You know I do."

"I mean you _really_ love her and … and you're together now?" I look at her properly.

"How'd you tell?" She smirks and taps the side of her nose. "Of course." I shift where I sit. "Please keep it to yourself though. I'm happy, she is too, but the age thing, whilst it doesn't bother us, could be a problem if people found out. She could get into trouble or lose her job..."

"Is it worth the risk?"

"I asked her the same thing." I smile at the memory. "Know what she did? Slapped me, quite hard, then apologized because she meant it as a sign, not an actual slap." I laugh. "Err, where was I? Ah – She told me not to think like that."

"She slapped you too hard?"

"Underestimated her reach I guess, or strength." I shrug. "We're fine though, just need to keep the snogging out of the public eye." Hermione rolls her eyes.

"And out of _my_ eyes too, please. I don't need you two getting frisky to haunt my dreams."

"Your wet dreams maybe." I mutter in a stage whisper. "Hey!" She slaps my arm.

"Prat." Her face grows more serious. "Now tell me what's wrong with Hedwig." I look over her shoulder at my familiar, currently picking at flowers with a smile as Ginny animatedly tells a story.

"I've upset her at a very strange time in her life." I sigh.

"Upset her?" Hermione prompts.

"Helping catch Greyback." I sigh. "She was distraught. Tonks had gotten back before me and tried to calm her down after explaining where I was. She cried and beat her fists against my chest as I hugged her. Called me selfish, then amended it to 'not selfish enough'." I fall quiet as I watch Hedwig for a while.

"Harry?"

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Hedwig's body. It's still changing." I add as Hermione starts to frown. "I can't just lay a hand on her and understand what's going on. I'm forced to use normal magic and some of the more deep reaching spells aren't really that comfortable to have cast on you, so I don't do it as often as I'd like. She's a person, not some subject to be scanned and categorised."

"You're frustrated by being limited to spells – You can't use your _gift_." I nod with a sigh.

"I'm scared that something will happen and I'll miss it. I have to piece together the puzzle from the identification spells, but when her biology shifts, I have to do it all over again."

"Is she OK?" Hermione looks over her shoulder.

"I don't know. Some days, her blood is almost acidic and a couple of hours later it changes again. The body she started with was entirely human, she's something else now and that's just the physical problems."

"Something's wrong with her head?" Hermione looks alarmed.

"What teenage girl doesn't?" Hermione slaps my knee. "Alright, Alright. She was an owl only a few weeks ago, so an owl's mind in a human body has to adjust greatly. Add to it all the hormones that come up, she sometimes breaks down crying or is as hyperactive as Tonks. Once she settles down, I hope she's happy."

"Just keep apologising and get her a nice dress, she'll come around." Hermione pats my hand. "She needs your support more than anything. If you're scared about her body's changes, then, if what you've told me is true, it's going to rub off onto her and she'll be petrified. Be strong for her."

"Thanks, Hermione." I smile affectionately at the not-so-bushy-haired girl. Her smile turns a bit more sinister. "What?"

"I've just figured it out."

"What out?"

"You, Tonks _and_ Hedwig. You're being greedy, Mr Potter." She teases.

"How'd you know?"

"I've seen the way you look at her whilst you've been here. It's how you looked at Tonks when we saw her in Diagon Alley." Hermione smiles victoriously.

"You're too smart for your own good, but correct … for now." She frowns, but patiently waits for me to continue. "She might change her opinions of us. Not completely, mind you, just the more romantic parts. I'll still love her whatever she decides, I just want her to be happy."

"You can start by not moping over here, come and sit with us." She says, standing up. "And don't think I didn't see you with Bill's wand."

"I love to learn." I say with an innocent grin. She rolls her eyes.

* * *

Supper with the Weasleys is a hectic event, add in Hedwig, Hermione, Luna, and myself – The whole thing is a bit cramped. It's fun, but I couldn't do it every day. Floating gravy boats, lots of talking and laughter. I think watching Ronald eating more than a couple of times would put me off of the whole affair. When we finished eating, Hedwig and I fell back into a discussion with Bill, now much more knowledgeable. We would take it in turns to talk, I'd feed Hedwig relevant information for responses and background stuff at a slower, but continuous pace so she could get up to date with what I've learnt. She can't take the information as quickly as me luckily, nor does she wish to.

"When you finish travelling and fighting, you could always sign up as a curse breaker for Gringotts, seem to know your stuff." Bill looks surprised. Ah, I love cheating.

* * *

Hedwig grabs my hand and pulls me up off the sofa later in the evening as I was talking to Fred and George.

"We're walking Luna home, see ya in a bit!" She calls out. " _And no, this isn't_ _just_ _an excuse for a snog."_ She adds into my head.

" _Just?_ _So it is partially?_ " I query as we meet Luna outside. "How's you summer been, Luna?" I ask as we start to walk.

"I've been well, thank you." She replies dreamily. Hedwig transforms and takes flight.

" _Just gonna spread my wings_." She relays to me.

"That's good, Looking forward to Hogwarts?" We wander through the field.

"Yes, it has been a bit dull." She hums.

"I'm fairly certain this will be an exciting year." I smile. Not everybody knows about the tournament just yet. "Does everybody live in wonky, tall houses down here?"

"Two out of two, so I suppose the answer is yes." Luna hugs me as we reach the end of the path leading to her house. "She's quite beautiful." She says, looking up at Hedwig. "And as a human she is pretty too."

" _How could I_ _not_ _be when I'm this good looking as an owl?_ " Hedwig asks me pompously.

"She says thanks." I smile at Luna. "I'll see you at school, Luna." She nods dreamily and enters her house. " _Race you back, Hedwig._ " I twirl into my animagus and start running.

" _Not fair!_ " Hedwig shrieks and starts to catch up as I sprint beneath her. She dives at me and I swat at her.

" _You almost clawed my eye out!_ " I bark at her too.

" _You never set a rule against it."_ She says smugly, corkscrewing trough the air. She darts forward as I reach the longer grass. She's leaning against a fence, smirking, by the time I catch up.

"You played dirty." I say once human again.

"Don't pretend you don't like dirty." She tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck. " _Sorry for being a bitch lately._ " She elects to talk into my head whilst our mouths are occupied.

" _You've just got some stuff to work through, I'm here for ya._ _Hermione says you deserve a new dress too._ "

" _Can't argue with that._ " She smiles against my lips.

* * *

 **A/N: Harry is close friends with Fred, George and, Ginny, so i don't think it's absurd to travel to the cup with his friends. Ginny is Hermione's closest friend besides Harry and Tonks.**

 **The idea of swindling Bill into handing over his wand for a pseudo-'examination' was too fun to pass up.**

 **Hedwig will change, both physically and mentally. She is still settling into her human form and has lost some of the exuberance she began with.**

 **I had a thought about Snape and Harry working out a ceasefire, if not forgiving each other completely. Thoughts?**

 **Working on some secret stuff, so the world cup might be a bit delayed, Enjoy!**


	30. Chapter 30: 422nd Quidditch World Cup

**A/N: A little guest appearance in this chapter.**

 **For the past few chapters, I have been purposefully shifting more focus to Harry's relationship.**

 **Written whilst slightly intoxicated. Allonsy!**

* * *

Chapter 30: The 422nd Quidditch World Cup

Hermione and Hedwig had prodded me awake early in the morning of the World Cup. It'd taken some persuasion the night before, but my gracious hosts had eventually decided to allow me to sleep outside, I'd chosen a nice spot beneath a tree in the orchard. If the rumours are true, Ron snores like a chainsaw and I don't trust the twins enough with my sleeping form to bunk with them. As much as I'd like to sleep in Ginny's room with Hedwig and Hermione, That would have been frowned upon.

"Get up, Harry!" Hermione huffs, pushing my fur covered shoulder. I cover my eyes with my paw, letting out a groan. Normally I'm quite swift in waking up, but I'm not going for a run today, so I can have a lay in.

"I'll try something." Hedwig crouches down and leans near my ear. "If you get, I'll show you last night from _my_ perspective." She whispers huskily. I crack my eyes open and look up at Hedwig's innocently smiling face. Whilst I don't harbour _those_ feelings to Hermione and Ginny, I wouldn't mind a peek … for science. I climb to my bipedal feet.

"Nnnnmorning." I groan out as I stretch my arms above my head, accepting a peck on the lips from Hedwig.

"You've made up then?" Hermione nods to my arm, now encircling Hedwig's shoulders.

"More like made _out_." Hedwig smirks as Hermione rolls her eyes.

"I think grumpy wings here was won over by promises of a new dress." I smile fondly as she playfully scowls at me.

"At least the two of you aren't moping around any more." Hermione says as we head in for breakfast.

* * *

" _Think we could convince Albus to let you sleep in the girls dorms?_ " I ask Hedwig as we follow the Weasley clan hand in hand through the woods. Part of me feels guilty for enjoying the little show that Hedwig projects into my head, but I know that Tonks would encourage it and probably feel left out until we found a way to show her too. One in a million.

" _I could always fly through an open window, but I'd never commit such a crime!_ " She says innocently. " _Spying. Who do you think I am?_ "

" _The girl that took extra care watching those two get undressed?_ " I gesture to Ginny and Hermione, currently walking ahead of us. " _What do you think they'd say if they found out?_ "

" _If you tell them, then I'll say you watched too._ "

"You play a dirty game, Miss Hedwig." I say verbally.

"Why Mister Potter, it's only fair." She laughs.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to wear shoes?" Hedwig asks quietly a little while later as we walk with Hermione. "There's going to have been a lot of traffic everywhere you step."

"It'll be much more interesting this way, think of all the neat stuff I can see." I explain. "Speaking of seeing things, It looks like my 'magic sight' has shifted again. There's just more of everything now – I can pick out individual colours in people's auras and the way their magic clings to them-"

"Arthur!" A man stumbles down the grassy hill, waving madly … with Cedric Diggory in tow. This is Amos, who seems to have put on some weight since I met him in my first year. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it, long walk?"

"Some of us had a bit of a slow start." Arthur shakes the shorter man's hand whilst looking at his sons.

"Ah, we had to get up at two! I'll be glad when he passes his apparation tests, still – not complaining..." He carries on with his little speech as I share a look with Hermione. She also noticed that it was a 'when' he passes, not 'if'.

"Barely recognised you, Ced." I say as Arthur is bust introducing the group to Amos. "Getting a healthy tan on you." He grins sheepishly.

"New broom." He says, as if it explain everything. "I have to keep on top of things to make sure those two don't knock it to pieces this year." He eyes the twins warily, they try their best to smile innocently. The Gryffindor Beater pair have a healthy dislike of Cedric as he always out-flies their seeker on behalf on Hufflepuff. "But I don't think a tan is as much of a change as what you've done." He gestures to me. "You could pass for a sixth-year. Either you've grabbed some ageing potion, or the Prophet were downplaying your animagus. You look good." This prompts Hedwig to slink up beside me.

"Sorry, lover-boy, but he's taken." She kisses my cheek and Cedric laughs at the jab.

"I don't think the front page followed by a double page spread is downplaying." I scowl a little bit. "But they got my little 'secret' from the Ministry. I could try out for the Ravenclaw team, give you some competition." His eyes widen a bit.

"At least wait til next year, being an animagus is hardly fair – They say it can really up your game."

"Unless you're a sloth." I interject.

"I guess you're right." He laughs. "I was going to write you a letter when I saw the paper, ask for some pointers?"

"Go to McGonagall." I tell him. "That's a much better bet than-"

" _Harry Potter?_ " I turn to Amos, who has just caught sight of 'The Boy-Who-Lived'. His eyes make the customary flick up to my scar. I smile politely as he shakes my hand, making awkward comments about looking much older than he'd expected.

"We don't want to miss the portkey!" I shoot Arthur a grateful smile as he gets the group moving up the hill again.

"Sorry about my Dad, he's a bit excited today." Cedric apologises sheepishly. I wave him off.

"I've gotten used to it all now. I might not like it at all, but it's OK when they don't ask me to sign anything … or give me their underwear."

"They do that?" He bites back a laugh.

"More often than I'd expected." I grimace. "It's not so bad when it's a thong or something, but I get the odd pair of bloomers now and then." This draws a sort of disgusted laugh as we reach the top of the hill. A man and a woman, both sporting bright blue hair, are already atop the hill, standing by a white garden chair missing a leg – The portkey. The man has the 'tall and handsome' look down. Sculpted hair, well groomed beard. His eyes sweep over our group before turning back to his companion. He reaches into his long coat and withdraws what appear to be two tickets for a moment to make sure he still has them. His aura is a magnificent blue, matching his hair. Hedwig threads her fingers with mine as I move my attention to the woman.

" _I need to get a skirt like that._ " Her eyes land firmly on the woman's rear.

" _It's more of a belt._ " I comment.

" _Are you complaining?_ " I only smile in return.

I can't see her face from this angle, still hidden behind the wavy blue hair, but the petite woman's most notable assets, at least to my eyes, are the large, ethereal wings hovering behind her back.

"We're not coming back if one of you get left behind." Arthur jokes as he pulls the chair into an upright position. We gather around it, each grabbing some part of the flimsy chair. Hopefully it doesn't tear itself apart.

" _I wouldn't mind waking up to that in the morning._ " Hedwig chimes into my head. " _Maybe if I ask Tonks nicely."_ I glance over at her subject of interest – Much like the rest of the woman, her face is beautiful. But wings? What has wings? Maybe she's an animagus, or a succubus? I've passed over a few in Diagon Alley and physically encountered an Incubus, whom I held the door for in Fortescue's ice cream parlour, but my 'sight' hadn't evolved to this level back then. It might make sense for them to have hidden wings in their 'human' forms, but I'll have to look into it more. Veela maybe? That would explain why her magic looks like burning blue flames rather than the liquid smoke that is the norm. I look at the faces of the others, Ron, Fred, George, Arthur, Amos and Cedric – They seem to be in the same state of mind, so I doubt she's a Veela. " _You could just ask her._ " Hedwig suggests.

" _'Excuse me, do you know you have big fuck-off wings that you can't see?'"_ I snort, Hedwig giggles. " _I'm sure that'd go down well. Oh – 10 seconds."_ The portkey starts to wake up. Hedwig smiles innocently after drawing Hermione's attention by laughing at our silent conversation.

"Here we go!"Someone calls out before we get dragged across the country.

* * *

Amazing is the first word that comes to mind when describing the enormous site. Amazing and loud. Hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world, packed into a place just barely big enough to hold them. Singing, dancing, drinking, and general merriments. Scantily clad drinks of both genders stumbling about, barely conscious, but somehow swinging together, arm in arm, singing songs and spilling more of their drinks than they ingest – Money well spent, in my opinion. The giant, anti-muggle, sound-dampening, notice-me-not, and many other hyphenated wards, cover the area in an ever shifting lattice of Magic. From what I've gathered whilst walking through the grounds, they have buried several giant wardstones 20 feet under the camp to create redundancies to keep the wards functioning if one is damaged.

"Stop staring at the ground." Hedwig urges me on with another pull on my hand. If possible in her human form, he head would be swivelling on her shoulders to allow her to look at everything she wants to. "Come onnn." I'll end up with a headache if I keep watching the floor anyway.

"Sirius should be at this entrance." I point towards the nearest arched doorway on the grandiose stadium. Sirius' footprints are mixed amongst the many thousands that have already passed by. He is accompanied by a woman called Amanda, she works for him, but he's clearly trying to seduce the woman with the gesture of the tournament. Maybe I can tip the tables in his favour a bit.

"I'm surprised you haven't been recognised yet." Hedwig comments as we reach the bottom of the stairwell. The Ministry guide just instructs us to follow the signs to find the booth.

"The operative word there being 'yet'." I say, glancing over my shoulder to see if I'd been spotted with my ticket. "I don't suppose they plaster my face in the papers abroad thankfully. We _are_ heading into the heart of it now. Fudge'll probably pounce on us when we get into the Minister's box."

"Maybe your pal Draco's Dad can hold his attention." She muses. "Just keep your back turned, he'll not see you."

"Doubt it." I mutter as we continue upwards, buying a packet of 'Dragon Roasted Peanuts' on the way.

"...Put it this way – If it rains, You'll be the first to know." I have to hand it to him, as annoying as Lucius Malfoy is and as much as I'd enjoy smacking his stupid face, he does come up with some good lines. I swear that the universe works against Arthur to always place him alongside his 'nemesis'.

"Weasleys!" I wave to get their attention before climbing up the rigging a bit. "Already run into your best mate?" I subtly nod my head behind me with a smile and watch their eyes as they follow his as he walks away. I'm sure it infuriates him.

"Slimy git." Ron scowls at his retreating form. I turn around and see Draco leaning on the railing beside Hedwig. "I don't know how you can be friends with Malfoy."

Ah, Draco's not so bad." I offer the bag towards Hermione. "He hasn't insulted your family since our … second year?"

"You say that like it's a redeeming quality. What are _these_?" She scrunches her face up after eating a peanut.

"Dragon Nuts." I shrug as Fred and George take the bag, looking slightly disappointed once they realise that they're just peanuts. "I'll see you after the game. I've got Malfoys to irritate." I smile as they hand the bag back. I step back and drop down beside Draco.

"Must you antagonise my Father?" He asks lazily.

"Someone has to." I shrug. "It speaks volumes about his overinflated ego when being ignored upsets him so much." He looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't. "This is Hedwig, yes _that_ Hedwig, Best not to ask questions at this point."

"Maybe you can convince him to go to St Mungos to get his head looked at." Draco drawls.

"You wound me." I say whilst forcing more nuts into my mouth. There's a joke there somewhere.

"I think that buffoon is trying to garner your attention." Draco nods towards the wildly waving Sirius Black.

"Alright, We'll catch up after the game?" He nods.

"You can explain to me how you became an animagus … and how Hedwig appears to have done the same." He waves and heads off in search of Lucius.

"Harry! Find the place alright?" Sirius pulls me into a hug.

"Follow the signs." I shrug with a smile. "Even _you_ managed to get that part right." He laughs rambunctiously at the jab. I shift the peanut bag into my other hand and look at the provocatively dressed, blonde woman watching the exchange. "And this must be Amanda." I smile politely. "Sirius has told me about you."

"Is that why he looks like you've just slapped him?" She smirks. I look around at Sirius' slack-jawed face.

"Oh, maybe I've given away his feelings for you." I wink at him before turning back. She seems to look at him differently.

"Enjoy the game, Harry." She walks away, hips swaying. Sirius hugs me again.

"You're a good Godson." He beams at me as he pulls back.

"It'll be even better to watch this one blow up in your face." I smirk. Wizards, or James Potter to be more precise, called this one being a 'Second', like a duellists' second. The partner. Normal people use the term 'Wingman' – As in a pilot's wingman. Sirius usually found a way to mess up the favour.

"Enjoy it while it lasts." He says quickly before heading after Amanda.

"Why'd you do that for him?" Hedwig asks.

"If he upsets her enough, she'll make all the other models steer clear of him." I laugh. "When he's done being devastated, he'll appreciate the joke."

* * *

 **A/N: I've been sick for a while, sorry this took so long to write.**

 **Harry's 'mage sight', or whatever you call it, has evolved further, much like his unique psychometric abilities evolve. I was trying to think of a way to give a good visual example, so the magical wings seemed like fun.**

 **Hermione and Harry's relationship will be further explained in the future as well as how Tonks' feelings for Harry started and grew into what they now are. As it was mentioned in a review - No, she didn't have sexual interest in Harry when he was a wee youngster. And as for Harry's feelings on sex? It's coming (Soon hopefully (Sorry for the 'coming' pun))**

 **Thanks for being patient. Reviews are, as ever, greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**


	31. Chapter 31: Bulgaria VS Ireland

**A/N: Abysmally short chapter, sorry.**

* * *

Chapter 31: Bulgaria VS Ireland

After a 15 minutes of being ambushed by well wishers in the box full of 'important' people, I spot Patrick Delacour across the room. Hedwig and I quickly move to him, hopefully the others will be less inclined to bother us if we are already talking. Patrick have laughed when I'd told him.

" _Oh, Patrick. I thought we'd lost you_." I turn to see the French-speaking newcomers.

" _Harry here thought that if the three of us looked busy enough then we could get a little peace._ " Patrick laughs again. Allain looks similar to Patrick, blue eyes and light brown hair, but somewhat more unkempt than his younger brother.

" _Harry Potter_." I smile and offer my hand to the Minister of Magic. Should I add something about how honoured I am to meet him?

" _Allain Delacour_." He smiles and accepts the handshake. " _Patrick showed me the photo of the two of you." He smirks at his brother. "I wish I could've been there in person to laugh in his face_."

"Oh." I glance over at Hedwig. "This is Hedwig, she doesn't speak French." I offer her an apologetic smile. I didn't even realise that we'd been doing it. "Allain's the Minster of Magic in France, Patrick's brother, although you never actually met him either." Comprehension dawns on her face. I wonder if I can teach her French … I'd have to figure out how I learnt it first.

"I'm Hedwig." She offers Allain her best smile as they shake hands.

"This is my wife, Appoline." Allain gestures to the blonde woman beside him. I smile at her, but look over her shoulder to look at her wings. "And my daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle." Being blonde and attractive is a family trait it would seem. The youngest Delacour, Gabrielle, doesn't have wings like her sister and mother. That probably means something. As I move my hand forward to shake the hand of Mrs Delacour, Hedwig quickly grabs my wrist. I look over to her with a questioning look.

"Oh!" I could slap myself. I turn back to the confused looking Delacours. "This ring-" I hold up my hand. "-Wouldn't agree with your skin." I stuff the hand into my pocket and hold up my free hand. "Hedwig gets burnt, so she keeps a closer eye on it than me. Sorry."

"Forgiven, Monsieur. Most would not have been so considerate." I feel stupid for not realising that she would have been burnt. She switches hands to finish the greeting as I fail to resist the urge to look at her wings again. Slimmer than the mystery woman's, but still a magnificent fiery orange. I quickly look away once she realises where I'm looking. Sirius comes to the rescue.

"Harry, I found our … seats..." His voice trails off as he catches sight of Appoline. For a man that survived a decade in Azkaban, he doesn't hold out much defence against her allure, but this is Sirius Black after all – A saucy wink and a nice arse could persuade the man to break into Gringotts. I stifle a laugh as Hedwig stamps on his foot.

"Sorry about him, we're having him looked at soon." I watch Hedwig as she pushes him away. "I _t was nice to see you again, Patrick._ " I drop back into French. "And to meet you, Minister. Enjoy the game." I bow my head slightly and steal a quick look at the wings on Fleur Delacour's back before following Sirius and Hedwig.

* * *

Hedwig sits to my right, with Sirius on my left. The seats next to Hedwig are still empty, but judging by the rest of the room, they won't be for long. The game isn't going start for a while, but after all the walking and standing, it's nice to sit down. We are in the front row of this booth, giving us a brilliant view of the stadium before us. Hundreds of thousands seated tightly together, although they probably won't be staying in the seats much. The six rows behind us in the box are almost completely filled with the worlds 'important' people, or 'almost-important' as is the case with me. The multi-layered Ministerial box holds everyone that's been invited by the Minister himself. Or his secretaries.

" _What did you think of the Delacours?_ " I ask Hedwig whilst drawing circles on the back of her hand.

" _Fleur's a bitch._ " I look over at her cute scowl.

" _You only met her for a few seconds and she didn't even speak_." I try to reason with her.

" _Actions speak louder than words. When Sirius came along, she noticed that her_ _allure_ _wasn't hitting you, I guess she hadn't realised until she saw him. She cranked it up to try and get you."_ She says angrily.

" _That's not very polite._ " I agree, looking at her again. " _But that's not why you called her a bitch, is it?_ "

" _It felt like it was wrapped around my head. Like fire biting through my eyes and ears._ " She stays silent for a while, staring down into the stadium. " _She saw that it was working on me … she smiled._ "

" _Smiled? In a sinister fashion?"_ I ask her gently. She shifts in her seat and pushing a lock of messy hair behind her ear.

" _It was beautiful … I wanted to throw up. That sadistic smirk … the evil aura."_ She trails off. Whilst veela can't 'turn off' their allures entirely, they don't have to aim it at people like that. Hedwig lets out a groan. " _Great_." She chimes into my head. The empty seat are to be filled. I believe that some events in the universe are predetermined. Perhaps a god with a sense of humour that will always make certain things happen or have things line up in specific ways. Such as the seats being designated to the Delacours.

" _Just try not to slap her?_ " I suggest, drawing a glare from my ashen hair companion.

* * *

After Krum lead his rival into ground at a particularly high speed, the game slows down as the medical team make sure that Lynch's heart is still beating. Hedwig has been progressively fidgeting more throughout the match.

" _You alright?_ " I prod her mind as I lace our fingers together. I'm treated to some angry, yet somewhat earned, insults about the veela sitting beside her in return. She stands up abruptly and heads out to the external viewing platform. Sirius leans into my ear.

"She OK?" He asks me quietly.

"Not a fan of Veela." I mutter, catching his eye. He frowns for a second, appearing to resists the urge to look over my shoulder. "Try not to start a fight, Padfoot." I say, only half joking, as I stand up to follow Hedwig. The platform outside opens up from one of the doors at the side of the room. It's a large balcony over-hanging the seats below with a waist high rail around the edge to dissuade speedy descents into crowd surfing. Hedwig is leaning on the rail with both hands. I cross the small space and rest my crossed arms beside her. We stand in silence for a while as the players take to the air again. "So … You haven't made a new friend?"

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" She laughs dryly.

"It was either that or something about you both beings birds." She leans her head on my shoulder, encircling her arms around mine as I press a kiss to her head.

"You're an idiot." She says affectionately.

"I try." The crowd roars, jumping to their feet as Ireland score yet again. At this rate, Ireland will win if Krum doesn't get the snitch soon.

"It's worse because I can _almost_ fight it off." She sighs heavily. "I'd prefer just to end up like Sirius, that way I wouldn't know how horrible it feels."

"Being that much of an arse is a finely tuned skill, you'd have to practice for years to be like him." I assure her, earning a laugh.

"You two alright?" Sirius has come out onto the balcony now. Hedwig straightens up and smiles at him.

"Just needed some air." Sirius doesn't seem to but it, but doesn't comment.

"We don't have to go back in if you don't want." I say as Hedwig shifts.

"It's ok." She shakes her head. "But … switch seats with me? I don't want to sit right next to _her_." She scowls again.

"You can sit between Sirius and his … Lady friend." I shoot a grin as Sirius. "Give her an assessment, just to make sure she's worthy of the _esteemed_ Sirius Black." He looks a bit worried as we head back inside.

" _It looks like I didn't inherit your resistance to veela._ " She says, with something akin to a mental scowl. " _Maybe your sexual preference instead. Might explain why she can do that to me._ "

" _It could just be a coincidence."_ I answer. _"Or something birdy._ " She rolls her eyes as she lets go of my hand, leaving me to sit beside her new 'enemy'. She glances at me as I sit down, but otherwise ignores me. Maybe I should slap her, an enemy by association. It's faint, but I can see the aura that she gives off. A hazy pink that hangs in the air like perfume, thicker in some places than others, around my body currently. It looks like she's trying to catch me with it again. I decide that ignoring her is probably the best thing for now as I lean back into my seat.

Ignoring this episode, the day has been quite fun so far. I'm not the biggest Quidditch fan, but it's hard to _not_ get caught up with the festivities. The construction of the stadium was nothing short of amazing, hundreds of magical-carpenters and ward builders worked tirelessly to put all the pieces into place. The architects we probably paid more than their weight in gold to plan this all out, and then on top of it all there are the wards, for not just the main stadium, but the whole site too. It's impressive what wizards can achieve when they are putting on an international show. If only they could the same effort into running the country year round. Another great thing is that nobody stared at me when we were walking up here, I'd almost forgotten what it's like to be anonymous. It's a nice break to be out in the normal parts of London, but to have the same in the middle of thousands of wizards in refreshing.

The _esteemed_ Lord Malfoy has also been too busy, probably kissing Fudge's arse, or the other way round, to get revenge on me for interrupting him earlier. The game's not over yet, there's still time.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not sure what i'm doing any more.**


	32. Chapter 32: Attack on the World Cup

**A/N: Purposefully tried to have Harry disorientated or something here.**

* * *

Chapter 32: Attack on the World Cup

After the match had ended, rather spectacularly, the 'mingling' resumed. We'd quickly strayed away from the 'evil French hag', after which I'd had a pleasant conversation with Abhay Patil about the appalling lack of 'proper' magical transport, namely his families flying carpets. Hedwig and I had managed to slink away from the rest of the parasites and found Draco looking at a map of the site. He'd almost jumped out of his skin when we'd asked what he was doing, continuing to wear the scowl whilst explaining how big my animagus was, he looked interested. After Lucius collected his son, we found Sirius again and headed out into the camp-site for some drinks, which has been going well until an explosion went up not far from us, a few people had cheered, but then the screaming started after the second one hits.

"What was that?!" Sirius, now with his wand drawn, looks around wildly. I pop my own into my hand just after watching a bludgeoning hex smack somebody in the back of the head. This causes more panic in those around us, eagerly trying to get away from the aggressors. Tall hoods, black robes that seem to suck the light in from around them and the masks. "No..." Sirius' arm goes limp by his side. Death Eaters. Lots of them.

"Sirius." I give him a shove. "Go to the stadium, find Tonks – Help the Aurors." I point to the, now burning, stadium.

"What about you?"

"Somebody has to draw their fire." I shrug, giving my wand a flick, shielding one of the curses that hurtles towards the fleeing crowd. "Don't try and argue, take Amanda somewhere slightly more safe. The Aurors'll appreciate another wand. Hedwig, get in the air so I don't miss anything heading for my back." She kisses my cheek and transforms, quickly heading up into the sky. Arguing about her going away would only take up time. I throw up another shield as a curse comes at us causing Amanda to scream, this puts Sirius over the edge. He takes her hands and they run.

" _I count 33_." Hedwig tells me, giving me a view of their layout. " _Is this a good idea?_ "

" _I very much doubt it._ " I twitch my wand and catch another few curses before stepping into view of them, firing a couple of body binds to get them warmed up.

" _Be careful._ "

The bloody starts to pound in my ears as a sort of _humming_ starts in my head. Almost like voices telling me what to do. James Potter wanting a fight with flashes and finesse. Albus Dumbledore with his ruthless efficiency or Gellert Grindelwald wanting to tear them limb from limb. Maybe a mixture of it all? The tents around me has already been reduced to rubble.

"Kill him!" One of them shouts after deflecting my body bind. If I'm asked, they escalated it first.

I side-step the killing curse and, with a flourish, draw the debris of broken tents together into a large elephant to draw their attention for the moment it takes me to transfigure some nearby rocks into four hulking, 8 foot tall knights. Seeing a curse headed my way through Hedwig's eyes, I point my wand over my shoulder and a _protego_ shield springs into place and drops again a moment after absorbing the spell. I fire a couple of wards on the shields of the knights to keep them together just in time as the elephant is destroyed.

"Focus fire on the minions! _Reducto!"_ One of them snarls. Their forces, if they can be called that, are now spread out in a wide semi-circle, desperately trying to land a curse on the overly-agile knights. I transfigure the ground into a barrier whilst I put together a few more stone guardians. Why fight them myself when these guys can?

" _They're trying to surround you._ " Hedwig tells me with no small amount of panic in her voice. I bring my wand up in time to block the dark purple slash meant to decapitate me. I return with a volley of bone breakers aimed to their chests. One of these hitting their thick skulls is the last thing my 'image' needs.

" _Get higher, I don't want you to be hit._ " I instruct as I trade curses with the three newcomers. Their repertoire s limited, but deadly. Spells to spill my guts or burst my veins, hexes to disrupt the ground and many attempts to knock things into me, but simply blocked or fired back into them.

" _Behind you!"_ Hedwig says needlessly. I crouch down and a curse sails over my head. I retaliate with a large gout of fire, very large, and a reducto using the 'duo' modifier, which causes two spells to fire out instead. The small pieces of dirt and rock that get thrown into the air are quickly transfigured into needles, I use this new swarm to take out the two Death Eaters behind me before twisting my hand and sending the darts at the others. They whizz past my body, barely missing me. With those dealt with, and bleeding, I head back to the bulk of the battle, sending a great wall of fire towards those combating my constructs. I bring my free hand up with my wand and the fire morphs into a swarm of flying bears – I've taken this little trick for Gellert, although he did it with Fiendfyre instead. I send out stronger explosive hexes to scatter the Death Eaters whilst I draw upon more transfigured soldiers, sending a pair of burning golems into the fray. The most effective way to fight multiple combatants as a single fighter is to 'even the odds' a bit. In numbers anyway. " _Tall, white and arrogant incoming._ " It can only be Lucius … or any other of the Death Eaters for that matter.

" _Confringo!_ " I thrust my hand out to the oncoming spell and it freezes in the air, hissing wildly about 10 feet from me. _Lord_ Malfoy stands a short distance away, mask partially cracked, hood smoking around his neck, wand outstretched towards me.

"Well, that didn't go how you intended, did it?" I cock my head sideways a bit. I tilt my palm in the curse flicks back towards him, he has to dive to the ground to avoid it. " _Fulmen telum!_ " The lightning strike spins out of my wand and hits the man, throwing him away.

" _They're trying to escape."_ Hedwig points out as a knight slices the hand that clutches, or once clutched, a portkey.

" _Nice catch_. And fly higher." I flick my wand in the air, summoning a large anti-portkey ward around the area. They look to have gotten their hands on portkeys cleared to pass through the greater wards. That doesn't bode well. " _Anyone dead?_ "

" _Just beaten and bruised, but alive. Luci is looking crisp-"_ She gets interrupted by a huge flash of light exploding next to me, blinding me.

" _Contego Maximus!_ " The golden shield springs to life as a hail of … things barrage against it. With only Hedwig's sight to go with, I can't count on dodging.

" _Harry!_ " Hedwig lowers to get a better look.

" _No!_ " I bark. " _Stay up there, if you get hit then I've got no chance."_ I drop the shield and fire back. " _Ossium Satani!_ " An exploding bone curse, I'm sure it would hurt if it hit. I follow it up with vein bursting curses and another wall of fire peppered with arrows. 'Dark' magic, but it's not like he's throwing tripping jinxes at me either. I use my free hand to rub my stinging eyes, but settle for closing them. I have the small mercy of still being able to see the blurry magic through my eyelids.

" _Har-!"_ This time she doesn't finish. The bastard hit her.

"Ignis rumpitur montem!" I point the 'Volcano charm' in the man's general direction before spinning to catch Hedwig with my wand, gently lowering her to the ground about 50 metres away. I twist again and the killing curse misses me by inches, I let Hedwig fall the last couple of feet and turn back to my assailant. Blind. I exhale slowly whilst the rage builds inside me as I begin 'Lily mode'. The spells start to pour out of my wand as my senses slow down. I am still mostly blind. Hedwig is fine. One target remaining. I am still mostly blind.

" _Crucio!"_ That one doesn't look nice.

"AAAAAAH!" I snap out of the stance instantly, falling to the floor. It feels as though I just jumped off the astronomy tower. The description in writing of being hit by the cruciatus says it feels like thousands of red hot needles pushing into your flesh, this is an accurate description. It only lasts for a second. My sight starts to return as the man stumbles towards me as I try and grope around for my wand.

" _Crucio!_ " He starts the unforgivable again. My back arches as I scream, the pain coursing through my body. The curse feels as if it's trying to pull the flesh from my bones whilst cooking it. It begins to push through me in waves, never holding the same feeling long enough for me to get used to it. As the unrelenting torture curse continues, I try my best to send the man, who appears to be the non-imprisoned Lestrange brother, a hateful glare, but it's not really possible whilst screaming. I try and focus on the people that were merrily dancing here only minutes ago, but the task proves to be impossible. My left eye suddenly switches off or bursts, which I'm sure it would have hurt a lot were I not being under the unforgivable curse of pain. I curl up into a ball at his feet, trying to somehow lessen the pain as it pounds relentlessly against my every nerve. I start to panic. He's not letting up. He's going to keep going until I die. I'm going to die. The pain begins to happen in slow pulses. Is it ending? Am _I_ ending? I can almost understand the man's hatred towards me, however misguided it might be, but I'll be damned if I don't at least take him with me if he's about to destroy my brain. We're now at the 260 second mark and the waves of pain are almost a whole second apart now. 1 … 2 ... 3 … I jerk my arm during the 'low' part of the pulse and a spike forms out of the ground in a flash and hits him in the chest. I try and sigh in relief, but I've long since screamed my throat raw. I think I was aiming for his heart, but my glasses are somewhere else, although with only one eye, it still would have been hard to aim.

"Gak!" Lestrange gurgles.

I hope Tonks is OK.

* * *

The first thing I can experience is pain and the loud ringing in my ears. I've been in Saint Mungos for … 15 minutes now, almost 20 minutes since I lost consciousness. I didn't die. I try and talk, but I can only manage a cough. Someone makes some muffled sounds, probably talking, as they cast some spells on me, no doubt to try and divine my state, but I didn't die!

"..er. Mist … er! Mister Potter!" My head is pounding, but I crack my eyes open – One of them anyway – to look at the healer. A woman, blurry, short, and red hair. She shines her wand in my good eye for a moment before pointing it, ineffectually, at my busted one. Something is pressed to my mouth a few seconds later. Water! Sweet, sweet nectar of the Gods! More sound starts to reach me as my ears as I wake up more. My body still creaks inside as it shakes from the Cruciatus exposure. 'Exposure' sounds like a much less horrific thing, doesn't it?

"T-tonks." I croak out. If anything's happened to her, I'll climb out of this bed and show the bastards that did it what a dark lord can _really_ do.

"Miss Tonks is fine." A pleasant voice reaches informs me as more healers gather near my bed. Light blue aura.

"Glaa-ses." I try and move my arms, but my fists painfully ball up, digging my fingernails painfully into my palms. I tense up my whole body as the heat washes through me again. I try not to recoil as my glasses are none-too-gently set on my face. They feel too heavy. The lenses are cracked and the frame is gnarled partially, having been stamped on, but the faces swim into focus. Four healers methodically attempt to reduce the damage caused, I can see in their eyes that it's not working. I've theorised that the three Unforgivables cannot be blocked by any known shield charm because they are not the same 'brand' of magic. Similar to how Goblin magic doesn't line up perfectly with that of Wizards, Pixies, or House Elves – The Unforgivables might be bastardised versions of another form of magic, so they cannot be shielded against by the generally known form. That, however, is just my guess, medical journals just say that the Cruciatus is almost impossible to treat. I screw my eyes shut again as another fit of pain has me biting my lip, drawing blood. My arm pushes out and makes contact with one of the healers wands. Anderson. Mahogany and Unicorn tail hair. 55 years partnered, which happened just 14 days after the wand was crafted by Ollivander. I can add 'Psychometry induced headache' to my list of ailments. Fantastic.

* * *

 **A/N: 'Pain pain, go away.' Was my first idea for the chapter title. Hopefully i've done the horror of this particular curse justice so far, it's real fucking nasty.**

 **I know that in canon that the three Lestranges are in Azkaban, but here Rabastan wasn't sentenced. Politics!**

 **Had a couple of things about pairings. Harry/Tonks is, quite obviously, here and here to stay. I have a loose plan for Hedwig and another, shall we say, _avian_ inclined witch. Hermione and Harry's relationship is platonic, which i hope is the right word. Harry/Hermione in this particular story ... is an impossibility.**

 **I want to screw with the canon lore when it comes to dragons because dragons are cool, but probably no reawakening of some crazy, long forgotten race of all-powerful, anthropomorphic race of dragons.**

 **We'll see how it goes, Enjoy!**


	33. Chapter 33: Pain pain, Go away

**A/N: No harem. Not a harem. No harem in sight, well not one involving Harry anyway. I'm can see why it may have came across as such, but no – No harem. Harry/Tonks, that's all well and good. Hedwig is with them for now, but she** _ **is**_ **an owl that's been turned into a human. And as mentioned, she is undergoing lots and lots of change. Just wanted to get that off my chest.**

 **No harem.**

* * *

Chapter 33: Pain pain, Go Away

 _The battered and pulverised corpses of the Death Eaters lay around me, mixed in with the burning tents and remnants of the battle transfigurations. The stench of blood and brimstone is thick in the air. A foreign wand sits loosely in my hand as I survey the scene. I tense as a wand is pressed to my throat. Casting my eyes sideways, I see a woman with black hair and red eyes._

" _Et tu, Death?"_ _The words tumble from my mouth. The woman smiles, eyes flashing sinisterly._

" _Crucio." She whispers, almost lovingly._

I awake with a kick as the after-shocks hit me, biting back a groan as my frame shakes.

Still in St Mungos. Tonks is still in the seat beside my bed, which isn't usually allowed, but none of the staff really want to tell her to leave. She's been clutching my left hand in hers for almost the entire time she's been sitting her. It hurts, but knowing that she doesn't hate me for what I did means I can forgo the comfort. I turn my head so that my good-eye can see her and I smile as I see that she is still wearing the eye patch.

"How're ya feeling?" She asks, resting her chin on the edge of my bed. It's only been 2 hours.

"Like shit." I croak. "You?" She lets out a sigh.

"Worried mostly. Hedwig went to get some food, I wanted to see you wake up before I went, The sandwiches are supposed to be marvellous." She says dreamily.

"Try the t-tuna." I say as she stands up.

"Can I trust you not to get into any trouble?" She asks with a faux-stern voice, leaning down to kiss me softly. It feels like a slap.

"I'm sure it will find me." I joke, she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Don't make me handcuff you to that bed." She winks as she leaves. The glass in the door is charmed to only work one way, to ensure the patients privacy. She's too good to me. Even after I do something this foolish, even after I almost get myself killed. I sigh and roll back. I should've just run or went to find her straight away with Sirius. I should've just killed them instead of trying to incapacitate them, to detain them so 'justice' can be served. Justice from a corrupt government. Justice to those men would have been slow and painful deaths. I shift again as the door opens, letting sound flood into my room before the charms seal up again. "Albus?" In all of his silver and purple pin-striped robed glory.

"In the flesh, so they say." He smiles and takes the seat recently vacated by Tonks. "Are you well?"

"It could be w-worse." I swallow heavily and dig my nails into my palm. "What happened to _him?_ "

"You may be pleased to know that you missed Mr Lestrange's heart by inches, he is currently under Auror guard." I merely nod. Damn it. I was aiming to kill him. "But alas, my time is short and I have a couple of your possessions with me." He digs into his sleeve and withdraws my wand, hesitating for a moment before giving it to me.

"He. Snapped. It." I growl. Rabastan Le- _fucking-_ strange snapped my wand. One foot on the handle and a swift kick was all it took. If I ever encounter him again, he will not walk away from it. "But you repaired it..." I hold the wand before my face, trying desperately to hold it steady as I inspect it. No crack or splinter, mark nor imperfection mar it's length.

"In any other circumstance, including those in which your wand was also broken, I would not have repaired it." He says firmly. It shocks me a bit. "However, I have here another item of yours." Again, he digs into his sleeve, withdrawing another wand, his wand – The Elder Wand. "When you disarmed me, you explained to me that the wand cares for naught but power, do you remember?" I nod slowly. "Elder is said to not give up it's masters lightly, some say a great feat can win them over. Thestral hair is only mastered by those who themselves have mastered death." He turns the wand slowly in his hands, as if measuring it. "I was fit to possess only the meanest Hallow, the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand, and not to boast of it, and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and use it, because I took it, not for gain, but to save others from it." He extends the wand towards me, handle first. "Perhaps that, in time, you too shall discover why the wand has chosen you." He finishes with an encouraging smile.

There is no flash of light, no gust of wind to signal a bond. It has already decided, and I have already become it's 'master'. August 26th 1994 3:03AM. The day Harry Potter masters the Elder Wand.

"Wait." I stop Albus just before he leaves. "Are you disappointed in me?" He turns to give me an odd look.

"Disappointed? That you were able out-duel thirty three – ahem, thirty- _two_ combatants single handedly?" His eyes sparkle at his little joke. "That you were able to perform great feats of magic whilst under threat of death? No, Harry, I am proud of you, a small part due to the non-lethal measures that you have taken, but you also chose to expose your life so valiantly and readily to protect those who could not do so themselves."

"I didn't want to be like the rest of them." I hold up the Elder Wand, _my_ wand. "Killing to resolve all their issues." I sigh, resting the wand on my chest, looking at my first friend. "I think we both know that I'm not going to be as gentle the next time something like this happens. I'm not … I can't be as good as you are." He smiles sadly.

"I only ask that you exercise restraint and mercy. A man is not measured by how he treats his equals, but those beneath him." He must have a bookshelf full of these lines.

"Mwotcher perfessor." Tonks returns with a sandwich in each hand and one in her mouth.

"Nymphadora." He smile genially whilst her hair turns red. "I shall leave you in ... capable hands, Harry." He closes the door behind him after Hedwig gives him a hug.

"Ruddy man. I know he only does it 'cause I can't hex him." Tonks scowls, dropping down heavily onto the chair as Hedwig climbs onto the end of my bed, crossing her legs beneath her.

"You should t-tryy it sometime." I say, wincing as I sit up to accept the food. "Healers tell you anything?" I ask Hedwig whilst devouring the sandwich. Torture works up an appetite.

"Only that the best treatment for this sort of exposure is time." She scoffs. "Fat lot of good that's done the Longbottoms though. I overheard one of them calling you an arrogant fool, lucky to be alive – That sort of thing. I followed a couple of them down to the café and they were whining because you wouldn't tell them about your chest, or your blood either." She snatches one of Tonks' sandwiches.

"Hey!"

Whilst they were going over my nerves, and getting on my metaphorical ones, they also checked for other injuries whilst waiting for the Not-So-Dreamless Sleep potion to take effect. Obviously a large spider web of blackened-green skin around a puncture wound draws some alarm, but I wasn't going to tell them a basilisk had done it. They'd not been happy with my answer of 'it's an old injury' apparently. Luckily they didn't look at my back.

"Is that _Dumbledore's_ wand?" Tonks leans over to look at the bumpy wand.

"Technically it's my wand now, it just took it's time to realise it." I look down at the fabled Deathstick again. Why me? And why now?

"This is the one that you got got when you whooped his arse? The really old one?" I nod. Tonks only knows that Albus wasn't it's first owner, I feel guilty for not telling her. Hedwig knows, but she reads through my had like a newspaper.

"Funny how such a nice person ended up with such a bad wand." Hedwig muses.

"He said he tamed it." I lean back onto my piled pillows.

"Anyone else interesting used it?" Tonks asks. Plenty.

"Uh, there's only b-been one woman to ever own it. She went by 'Belladona' but her real name w-was Bellatrix Cornwald." I explain, trying not to strain my throat too much. "She was in charge of a tavern in the early 18th century that was home to a guild of mercenaries. She did also do a lot of work for the guild outside of h-her establishment, most of 'em being ludicrously important politicians. Despite all of that, she was actually a nice person." I laugh a little. "Kind hearted until it came to the dirtier side of her j-job. She looked after the others when they spent too much of their pay on drinks, stopped rookies from being harassed – About as nice as they get. She got the wand when she was 21, on her first contract from what I can see. I think she was asked to kill this man, so she used her _womanly assets_ to bring his guard down and she snatched this wand and used it to melt the guy's b-brain."

"Yeuck." Tonks screws her face up whilst I watch the wand carefully.

"She died a few months before she was 49, but she hadn't aged a day, not physical anyway. She w-was incredibly well read and used 'dark' rituals to retain her youth. She was also the one to ward the building, which is here in London I think. Pretty amazing really, wonder if the old p-place is still there."

"It's been like 200 years, no way it's still there." Hedwig waves her hand dismissively. "What killed her?"

"Her brother, Oliver Cornwald. He then tried to sell it at auction, but was robbed on his way into the bu-uilding."

"Hang on." Tonks pipes up, having been silent for a while. "You said a merc guild in London?"

"From the 18th century." I confirm.

"But a big warded hideout?"

"It was more like a grand hall with rooms attached, but they _did_ hiide there." I think I know where this is going. "They called themselves 'The Black Crows', Their emblem was a-"

"Black crow with a wand in it's beak." Tonks finishes for me. I glance over at Hedwig, who shrugs, before turn back.

"This is the part where you tell me that they are still a-active and I've just created a path for you to get a promotion, right?"

"Yes and no. They're hired wands, the rough kind, but I won't get a promotion." She laughs. "We'll talk about it when we ain't sitting in a hospital." She smiles affectionately. "Shame you can't use the wand to heal yourself." She adds glumly. I look down at the most powerful wand wielded by the thickest person.

"My own stupidity astounds me." I sigh. "I can lessen it a b-bit. Get rid of this stutter maybe. The healer was using nerve soothing charms on me, but they weren't very effective."

"So you can get rid of some of it?" Hedwig asks hopefully.

"I don't really know." I very carefully hold the tip of the Elder Wand against the inside of my left arm and cast a diagnostic charm, designed for nerve damage, to determine if I can help myself in any way. As if there was any doubt, crucio is _not_ good for the skin. The damage is more evident as I move up my arm, spell had hit me in the stomach and spread out from there, which isn't to say that it hurt any more or less around my body, just that the nerve damage is more severe around it's point of impact. The 'hitch' in trying to heal this sort of damage, which would normally be treatable, is that 'dark' magic doesn't heal well. It's why Alastor Moody still only has one leg, or why dark cutting charms can't be healed with salves and skin knitting charms without a huge amount of work. "I can try."

"Could anything go wrong?" Hedwig balls her hands into fists and rests them on her knees.

"I c-could relax all the nerves in my body and shit myself I suppose." I joke, trying to lighten the now-darker tone of conversation. It is truly a miracle that these two put up with me, even more that they don't resent me for almost getting myself killed. "Well, here goes." Come on, Peverell purple, show me what you can do. I clench my teeth together as the charm tugs at my abused nervous system, straightening my back to reduce the shakiness of my wand. As if by magic, the shaking reduces drastically. The pain is still very much there and I doubt that the aftershocks have been reduced much, but now that my hands only hold a slight tremor.

It's only a tiny slice of the enormity of the aftermath, but even this is more than should be possible. Is this the power of the Elder Wand? Or a combination of other things? Maybe the wand works on the same 'wave-length' as the cruciatus. Perhaps when the Peverell brothers created these artifacts, they were able to do so, and in turn embed a different kind of magic, because they themselves are not completely human? It might explain why the Invisiblilty cloak can hide from anything, my psychometry for example. Or why the wand can perform otherwise impossible feats. But if I'm supposed to be a far, far removed descendant, what does that make me?

Maybe when I finally kick the bucket, I will be reborn to lead a simple life …

Probably not.

* * *

 **A/N: The Elder Wand + Harry's theory on why the 'Deathly Hallows' work so strangely.**

 **'The Black Crows' will be a nice segment in the future to further showcase "Sherlock Potter's" detective streak ... and maybe some flamboyant de-constructing of wards.**

 **A review asked why Harry was worried for Tonks: She, and many other Aurors, were working during the cup and subsequent attack. He asked Sirius to go and help them before getting into trouble.**

 **Harry will be moping more about what he, from his perspective, put Tonks, Hedwig, and everyone else through. This brush with death has hit him hard and now that he wields a not-so-metaphorical conductors baton, he will be more inclined to deliver more permanent 'justice' to enemies.**

 **Fairly important; I will have to write carefully to not be _too_ cliché when having Harry deal with Hedwig's ward-ship expiring. Right now i have him becoming a young head of house, but i'm open to suggestions on more ... inventive(?) ways to deal with it.**

 **Bit nervous about this chapter, let me know what you think. And, until next time, Enjoy!**


	34. Chapter 34: Aftershocks

**A/N: Thanks for the suggestions, but having Hedwig being taken on as an apprentice would complicate things I have in mind for further down the line. So, as boring and perhaps cliché as it is, Harry will be taking on his house, but not as a serious thing to become a politician or some such nonsense, but to help Hedwig.**

 **Harry goes into some detail about Hedwig and Tonks' sexualities in this chapter, as well as lightly mentioning his cruciatused genitals. Now that the more detailed chapters are returning, there will be more things like this. Almost like a stream of thoughts from Harry's head, rather than just observations? I can't really explain it well.**

 **Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Chapter 34: Aftershocks

"Left optic nerve is showing signs of improvement." The healer intones for the dictation quill. "Sight expected to return in days rather than the original estimation of weeks." The cruciatus has come close to making me lose sight in my left eye forever. Once again, down to sheer luck, I've been spared from this fate.

"Great." I say eagerly as I sit up, taking the shirt from the table beside my bed. "I can go now, right?" With only 5 days left until school, I desperately need to get to Gringotts to ensure that Hedwig isn't whisked away from me. I'll have to head back home first to have a shower and put some decent clothes on. Cruciatus or not, I shan't be walking into Gringotts unkempt. Or more unkempt than usual.

"Oh no, not so fast." The healer, an 86 year old lady named Elsa Van Morris, blocks the doorway, hands on her hips as she glares at me. Hermione does something similar when I've either done something, or am about to do something, stupid.

"You said I could leave once you looked at my eye." I remind her as I push myself up off of the bed. Some people might like spending days in bed, but it's not as fun when it's in a hospital. I sway on my feet a bit and lean on the table for support, although it feels like leaning onto something sharp, Healer Morris won't let me go if she knows. "And you've looked at my eye, it's getting better. I can cope with one eye for a while." I assure her as I retrieve the Elder Wand, from wherever it vanishes to, so I can conjure a walking cane. The wand 'comes' with a sort of other-dimensional wand holster, much like my own, but it doesn't have a physical body to strap to my arm – It just vanishes and reappears when I need it. If it's taken from me without it's ownership changing, I can't summon it back though. "I'm fine." I tell Morris as I lean my left arm onto the cane, applying my customary protections over my feet.

"And what did I say about using magic?" She asks sternly.

"To not overdo it, no heavy lifting and, under no circumstances, should I fight anyone." I recite her earlier words impatiently. She continues to look at me, frowning. "What?" She doesn't budge. "What do you want me to say? That my body still feels like it's on fire? That every movement makes my body cry out in pain? Because it does, OK? But I could either stay in that damned bed and feel sorry for myself, or I can go and get cleaned up so I can feel slightly better about my state whilst I'm butting heads with Goblins who'd rather rob every knut I have rather than help me." My hand involuntarily tightens on cane's handle. I've opted the simplest possible conjuration I could muster. I think it's wood, at least that was the plan. Dead straight, no knots or bumps. The handle comes out as a completely unnatural right angle, curving slightly to fit my hand. A masterpiece, I'm sure.

"Somebody is here to guard you, Minister's orders." Morris says only this before leaving. I shouldn't have been so rude really. I let out a sigh and open the door. This floor isn't a particularly noisy one, as the inmates -er _patients –_ tend to not make as much noise, or they are in rooms to cut the noise off.

"Potter."

"I thought you were retired, Moody." I say to the grizzled man, turning on the spot and walking towards the lift. A soft clunk and tap accompanies every other step for him, whereas I have only the single tap every second step.

"Albus assured Fudge that the Auror department was stretched thin enough as it was." He explains, glaring at a man with a camera as almost takes a step towards us.

"Nothing to do with the old gang?" I ask as we enter the lift. He doesn't answer. "Can you tell me what's being done about them? Or if anyone knows why they did it? It seemed like much more than just some drunken fun. Tonks said that a couple of them were throwing hexes at the Aurors after they set the arena ablaze."

"Aye, they were." He presses the button for the ground floor and the doors slide shut. Both of us have an eye not in working order and a leg that doesn't pull it's weight. Granted his are more permanent, but it's kind of funny. "It's being treated as terrorism, I can tell you that because I'm _not_ an Auror." I lean against the railing inside the lift. "Alright there, Potter? Don't look too sharp."

"You're not exactly the picture of health these days either." I shoot back.

"Hurts, don't it?" He asks, almost rhetorically. I nod.

"Ever felt it?"

"Once, briefly. I don't envy you." He reaches into his coat and takes a swig from his personal flask. I don't blame the man for not drinking things given to him by anyone else. He's definitely made enemies over the years. "You gonna make it to the door?"

"I'll be alright."

"You handled yourself well at the cup." He tells me after a pause. Well? I understand now why Tonks says his praise isn't conventional. "Idiotic, dangerous, brash, and effective. Albus was the same when he was a younger man."

"And Tonks said you weren't much of a talker."

He stays silent for the rest of the walk to my flat.

* * *

"Dobby, Fetch Alastor some tea." I say as I limp into my flat with Moody in tow. Stairs don't agree with me. He probably won't drink it, but it gives Dobby something to do.

"Harry Potter sir!" He exclaims as he appears, tea cup in hand. I don't pay his concern any attention as I close the door of my bedroom, falling face first onto the bed, leaving the cane to clatter onto the floor beside the bed. Why didn't I just kill them? It would've been so much simpler and easier. Replace stunning hexes for cutting or blasting hexes. Have the stone knights stab rather than cut, or put a bit more force into the cuts to spill their miserable guts onto the floor. I turn my head so my nose isn't squished, allowing me to breath again. They would deserve no less for those that they have tortured or the children they've killed. I roll over and sit up again to undress.

Hedwig and Tonks have both been back this morning. I'd told Hedwig to meet me at the bank for 10AM after she offered to buy my books for me, the list had only been given to us last night. I hadn't seen her when we walked here, but with the notice-me-not charms quickly waning, I didn't look thoroughly. I dump my clothes onto the floor as I amble into then bathroom. Dobby was in here earlier to clean it after the girls had used the shower, not at the same time unfortunately. I hiss angrily as the water hits my back. I lower myself to the floor of the bath/shower combo and allow the water to pour onto my scalp. I tilt my head up a bit to watch Tonks wash, slightly more showily than is strictly necessary. I close my eyes and listen to Tonks' patchy shower-rendition of The Weird Sisters' "Do the Hippogriff".

I clench my jaw as another hit of pain introduces itself in the pit of my stomach. As if I'd needed anything more to remind me what a shitty few days it's been – An erection feels like being kicked in the balls. The torture curse. Very apt. I think this is what the 'two-brick' castration method must feel like. Maybe I could replicate the effect in a curse. I'll have to talk to Tonks about it eventually though. Not being castrated, but sex. I don't know if her feelings for me stretch that far, or if she is content to carry on how we are now. The thought has crossed my mind to just let it play out and see where things go, but if she doesn't want to push me, and I don't want to push her, then nothing will ever happen. I've noticed that she tenses up when my hands stray to her thighs and wrists, but she's never said anything to me. I know that things happened to her during her earlier years at Hogwarts, it's why she tends to good-heartedly steer conversations away from past boyfriends and onto the illustrious Hestia Jones. Hufflepuff, 2 years older than Tonks.

I've often wondered if a person can be completely bisexual, granted my experience with such individuals is limited, but they tend to steer one way more than the other. Hedwig is a lesbian, almost nothing to argue against it, but I am an exception to it because, in her words, my own narcissism imprinted onto her profoundly enough. It's not bad as theories go. Tonks, however, is an exception to my earlier theory on bisexual people. She jokes that she is somewhere between male and female, so it's not that she is gay for either, but straight because she is a third gender. I think she just uses it as a convenient excuse to make dirty jokes about 'being between the two genders'.

I bring the elder wand up to my throat and cast another nerve soothing charm. I let out a sigh of satisfaction as the water no longer feels like spikes. Why didn't I do this earlier?

* * *

Healthy reapplications of the charm speeds up the process of showering and makes getting dressed not feel like sandpaper being drags against my skin. Moody is sitting at the kitchen table reading the Daily Prophet, the tea is untouched.

"Wait until I tell Tonks you were reading the paper at our kitchen table." I smirk, feeling in much higher spirits. "She'll probably fall over from laughing."

"Doesn't need the laughing for that, lad." He says grumpily, climbing to his feet. "I'd imagined Nymphadora to live in a pigsty." He casts his eyes over the room. "Spose that bloody elf of yours is to thank?"

"Mostly." I nod. "I think she's developed a habit of leaving things around so Dobby has something to do."

"That why her clothes are in your room?" Did he just make a joke? I smile before downing the luke-warm tea.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" I set the mug down and conjure a slightly better looking cane. McGonagall would have my head if she'd seen the abysmal first iteration. Moody looks at me searchingly for a while.

"All I saw is some clothes left about by your elf." He grunts.

"Cheers, Moody."

"Not about to put the career of one of the finest Aurors the Corps has seen in decades in jeopardy." He explains as we head down the stairs. Tonks'll probably get over being mortified about Moody knowing about us once I tell her what he said.

We find Hedwig sitting on the steps on Gringotts, with a Flourish and Blotts hessian bag, beside a very stressed looking Draco Malfoy. She catches sight of Moody and looks a bit surprised, but shakes it off and hugs me gently, but quickly realises that my self-applied healing charms have done a lot of good, this prompts a, much needed, squeezing hug.

"Ah, still a bit tender." She quickly lets up on the hug a bit. " _How's the ol' boy been?"_ I ask her, directing our joint thoughts to Draco.

" _Polite. He's upset that you might blame him I think."_ She tells me, letting go of my hand to pick up the bag again. Draco is warily eyeing Moody, who is giving him an icy glare with his normal eye. I clear my throat and they break their exchange. Draco straightens up and looks at me, eyes flicking to the cane for a moment.

"I didn't know anything was going to happen." He explains, looking around the area before stepping close to me. "Father told me to go to one of the portkey areas with Mother straight after the game, I thought nothing of it." Explains why he was looking so intently at the map at the game. He looks as sincere and worried as I've ever seen him. Maybe less worried than when we were in the Forbidden Forest in our first year. Only a smidge. "I was at the manor the day after the game when Mother comes through the floo and tells me that Father has been attacked, I only found out _why_ and _who_ when Crabbe writes to me-"

"Wait." I interrupt him. "Vincent can _write?_ "

"I know, stunned me for a moment. I don't think he's ever written anything that wasn't homework... if you can call than dribble work." He sneers. "You're not … mad at me?"

"For being born to the wrong person? Nah." I wave my hand dismissively. "Truth is, I'm actually worried about you living with him after what happened. Look, I've got an appointment to keep, but if anything happens, call for Dobby. He can pull out past just about any wards. I've put too much work into converting you to my side." I joke. He smiles and nods.

"Thank you."

"Now, get out of here – Can't been seen talking to me, can you?" I smirk as he tries not to laugh whilst walking away. "Right, Moody. You can't actually come into the meeting..."

"I'll keep an eye on things out here." He says reluctantly.

"No safer place than Gringotts." I shrug. Damn it. I really should stop thinking such prophetic and ambiguous thoughts.

* * *

 **A/N: I'd debated over increasing the length of this chapter, or putting it out like this. Part of me feels that roughly 2000 words as done me fine for all this time, but i'm wondering if you, the readers, wish for longer chapters? This, of course, means that it may take longer between updates.**

 **Disclaimer: Harry's shower thoughts on bisexuality do not reflect my own.**

 **There is a chance that i will change my mind _again_ about the Lordy lord thing, but we'll see.**

 **Thoughts and suggestions are greatly appreciated; Enjoy!**


	35. Chapter 35: The Baron

Chapter 35: The Baron

It might be bordering on, or perhaps completely, racist to say that Goblins are brilliant. A more accurate statement would probably be that the _Gringotts_ Goblins are brilliant. All I had to do was ask for the, unknown to me, non-existent 'inheritance department' and I was assured a meeting within the next hour. 45 minutes sitting an unoccupied office catching up with Hedwig's for adventure by herself, a Goblin enters with a slim folder in his hand. This is Sharpjaw, the owner of this office. Chunky books line the shelves on either side of the room behind the large, dominating desk. The walls are smooth marble, with only two crossed axes adjourning either wall. No other personal objects within the office.

"Mister Potter. I am Sharpjaw the patient." He greets me after taking his seat. There are a couple of steps that sit behind his desk, allowing the Goblin to sit level with his clients. "I have conferred with your file..." His beady eyes stray to my right hand, more specifically the mithril band. "How may I be off assistance today?"

"The patient?" Hedwig chirps, unable to hold in her curiosity.

"Originally intended as an insult, believe it or not. I was too lenient with clients."

"But..." Hedwig urges him on.

"But – The numbers, after being triple checked, revealed that I was far more effective than others." He smiles, or perhaps it's a sneer. I can imagine dealing with racists all day requires a great deal of patience. This is his only office, and some of the time his guests can get loud and irritated when denied their 'rightful' inheritance.

"I don't know what you normally do-" I'm going to get myself caught one day by making puns about my abilities. "-but I hope you can help us with this. I have a couple of ideas, but I'll leave it up to your expertise. Simple put, to save time, This is Hedwig, who, until recently, was an owl and currently a ward of the ICW. I want to legally make sure she can't be taken from me. For nefarious reasons or otherwise." I squeeze her hand gently.

"I cannot say that I have ever had to do such a thing." Sharpjaw laces his fingers together, resting them on his desk. "A few possibilities come to mind as achievable, some may not work with recent laws, or won't hold up in the future, others may have unintended … _political_ -" He sneers at the word. "- repercussions."

"Such as?" I ask.

"The simplest, most advantageous, and most future-proof course of action is to take on your family as the last remaining Potter, to our knowledge, and adopt Miss Hedwig." He takes a moment to flip open the folder. "This was made immediately possible in … March of 1992 by your family's Regent, one Albus Dumbledore, so you could walk out of this office today as the Head of the Potters." Sharpjaw returns his attention to me. "Your Great-Grandfather, Viscount Charlus Potter, was the most recent true head of house as neither James nor Fleamont Potter wanted to, nor needed to." He explains to us. "Whilst they were, technically, 'Lords' – This did not mean they were the true 'Head Potter' so to speak. Over the years, Viscount Charlus' land has been purchased or lost, however; Modern nobility laws dictate that, if you wish, you may become a Baron. Whilst historically this required ownership of land and was not down to matter of inheritance, it no longer does."

"You talk a lot for a Goblin." Hedwig says as I digest the information. Rather than ordering her to be beheaded, Sharpjaw laughs.

"I am told that it helps I this line of work." Hedwig shoots him a dazzling smile.

"And where will Hedwig fit into this?" I butt in before Hedwig responds with anything past the smile.

"A simple blood test to ensure she is … 'human enough' to be adopted will be the only requirement." He explains. "After that, another drop of blood onto the house ring. The paperwork can be completed in minutes. The whole process has been streamlined to ten minutes in case of emergency."

In for a penny, in for a pound.

* * *

"As easy as that?" It's surprising really. "What's the catch?" Sharpjaw adopts a cruel smile once the whole process is complete.

"Now, _Baron_ Potter, You have the entire Potter manifest available for your perusal." He scribbles something into a slim black book, which is likely linked to several others carried by Goblins akin to assistants. "You are not required to read through centuries of transactions, but Gringotts highly recommends that you look through your asset portfolios and the past couple of decades of withdrawals, deposits and other monetary changes. There wasn't much activity during your hiatus, but since the days of Viscount Charlus, these are quite numerous." He seems to take some sadistic pleasure in explaining this. The door opens to allow 2 Goblins to push in trolleys each holding a large, leather-bound trunk. I massage my hands as the nerve soothing charm begins to wear off.

"These are just copies?" I ask, walking over to the trolley.

"Indeed. You may take these with you for your … perusal." Sharpjaw explains as I pop the lid open. It's full of official looking books, probably containing official looking papers too. The trunk is about 100 centimetres by 60 wide and deep. Everything from the knut count to any renaming land will be inside these books. Lots of useless stuff, which will be a delightful read, I'm sure. Any old clothes or the odd book that is down in the vaults or outdated 'friendships' with other families when such things were common. They still are really, I just don't like to think about it.

"Do you mind if I shrink these? I'm a bit fragile lately." I ask Sharpclaw. He watches me a second before nodding. A quick tap on each trunk with my new wand sees them reducing to the size of matchboxes. Luckily they only contain paper, so there isn't anything incredibly taxing to shrink. The other Goblins are dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Is there normally so much stuff?" Hedwig asks him curiously as I take my seat again.

"Even when the Potters had considerably less to their name, they kept a very tight hold on their books. Not everyone keeps such a close eye on things, nor will you need to, but it does help to keep everything orderly." He explains to us. "You may always take on the services of a Gringotts book-keeper, for a fee of course." He smiles again. "This person would work in conjunction with your own banker once the individual is chosen. This will take place this evening I should imagine. With holding such as yours, this may one of two or three accounts they will tend to." What was Sirius' account manager called? He does his logging too.

"Gnarthuck." I say. "If he would take the job, I'd be glad to have him." Sharpjaw almost looks surprised.

"Whilst uncommon to make a request by name, I shall pass along the message." It's good to keep them on their toes.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask quickly, rubbing my aching knee. Hedwig - Hedwig _Potter - s_ miles sympathetically at me, feeling my discomfort.

"Whilst the two of you are magically different, you blood is not." He reads from a piece of parchment. "Were you to perform a ritual using your blood, or create a blood ward using your own, Miss Potter's would act exactly as yours would, meaning that she would essentially be 'above' the ward just as you would. This also means that you cannot use her blood for a familial protection, as it would be like using your own. This may never come up, but I have been asked to relay the information to you anyway."

"Thank you, Sharpjaw. I won't take up any more of your time." I almost stumble our of the door, eager to get out of the 'no-spell' area that Gringotts enforces.

* * *

"Urgh." I sigh with relief and lean back into the chair outside Fortescue's after reapplying the nerve charm.

"You could've just asked to do it whilst we were in there." Hedwig hands me the ice-cream cone. She either doesn't realise or simply doesn't care that people are watching us like hawks. One would think we are famous or something... "Don't tell me it was some macho thing. 'Don't show weakness'?"

"No, nothing like that." I laugh. "I just didn't think it would be polite." She scoffs, wathcing the Diagon Alley crowd mill about.

"So, _Milord,_ How does it feel to be in such high peerage?" She smirks, not looking directly at me as she eats.

"Fantastic. Most of them have already tried to kill me." I say dryly.

"Tonks doesn't like it." She says.

"People trying to kill me? Understandable."

"No, well yes, but the whole thing. Unprovoked, except for some verbal spats. It's doesn't make any sense." She sighs and turns back to me.

"Maybe it'd been building up all this time. They just needed an excuse for some terrorism. They were throwing deadly curses before they spotted me." I remind her.

"I know." She says, hooking her arm with mine, glaring at some girls nearby. Just as protective of me as she was as an owl.

"There'll probably be a photo of us in a magazine tomorrow."

"Do they always look at you like this?" She scowls.

"Probably." I focus intensely on the ice-cream in my hand. Dangerous waters.

"Can't say I blame them too much."

* * *

" _You know that it's all different for them now, right?_ " Hedwig asks as we walk together through Diagon Alley. _"James and Lily's deaths weren't on your, and your other dealings have been more subtle. Now the public knows that you can fight. The 'bad guys' know you can fight._ "

" _Maybe they will leave me alone._ " I muse as we reach our front door. I turn to Moody, who'd been limping along with us. "Thanks for keeping an eye on me." I say, half joking. "You'll probably want to go before Tonks gets here or she'll think you're here for her and attack you. Or at least hide." We slip through the doorway before he can answer.

"Do you think we'll move now t hat you have money?" Hedwig asks, not turning, as we walk up the stairs.

"Nah. I like it here. It's in a good place and it doesn't have any old whispers imprinted into it." I lean the cane next to the sofa as I slump onto it. "Maybe we could get a balcony installed." I dig the two trunks out of my pocket and set them on the floor.

"What are you gonna do with your old wand?" She asks as I sit back after resizing the trunks.

"I'll still use it for everything. It's just easier to use this one whilst I'm a cripple. It feels like I'm waving a gun around though rather than a tool, like my real wand." I watch with interest as Hedwig bends over to open the first trunk. Tonks has either been a bad influence on her, or a very _very_ good one. She sits on the lid of the second trunk as she leafs through the grey binder. "Anything?"

"Just when they've recorded when you've withdrawn some money." She flips the page. "It's funny that they use these." She shakes the binder. "I thought they'd use big leather-bound tomes."

"These are just the copies, they would have the official ledgers looking much nicer, I'm sure." I swivel on the sofa to lie down. "Go on then, what's left of my... inheritance." I sigh.

"Just shy of a million galleons. 932 thousand to be precise."

"Huh. Not bad." I shut my eyes. Plenty to live on, very comfortably, without a job. I could travel all over the world when Tonks isn't working. "That's … about 9 thousand a year for the next century. And what's in my own vault will knock that up by a few percent."

"But you're not going to just spend the next hundred year, if you live that long, sitting about, whining all day, are you?"

"Nah." I wave my hand. "I could blow it all in a month, I'm sure- But then what would we eat?" I sit up again. "I'd prefer not to use any of it, doesn't really feel like my money anyway."

"Not even a little bit?" She pouts.

"Maybe Tonks _could_ use some socks without holes in them..." Hedwig rolls her eyes at this.

* * *

 **A/N: Anti-climactic? Hopefully not. Harry did this for Hedwig, not for his own gain, he won't be kicking about the Wizengamot any time soon ... not as part of it anyway.**

 **This was tricky to write and maybe not as filled out as it could be. Harry's patience wouldn't last whilst the pain is still there. Not sure about the chapter as a whole.**

 **Back to Hogwarts when the next chapter is ready, whenever that will be. Enjoy?**


	36. Chapter 36: Fourth Year Train Ride

**A/N: This chapter is brought to you by a bloodstream containing Jim Beam!**

* * *

Chapter 36: Fourth Year Train Ride

"Oh, by the way, Who lives under us? Don't think I've ever asked." Tonks asks me as we walk through London towards Kings Cross on the first of September with Sirius and Hedwig.

"I don't know if anyone _lives_ there, but Goblins go in and out a few times a week." I explain. "Usually at early hours in the morning, I've never seen 'em in person and there's never more than two together. No other discernible patterns, but I know that it's not the only way in or out, unless Goblins can teleport."

"Whad'ya mean?" She asks.

"I've seen a few Goblins go in, and then a few months later they go in again without leaving."

"Maybe it's a secret entrance to Gringotts?" Sirius suggests. I shake my head.

"No..." I say slowly. "They don't seem like they work for Gringotts. Maybe I could ask if I ever meet one of 'em." I shrug. "One was in a rush a few weeks ago, they dropped a galleon." Tonks almost trips over, which isn't saying much for her shock.

"A _Goblin_ dropped a galleon?" I think she'd look less shocked if I were to tell her that Albus was actually a woman.

"Yep. Poor sod comes running out all bloodied with a fist full of coins and heads into Knockturn Alley." I try not to laugh at her face, she's still wearing the eye-patch, claiming to do so until my sight recovers beyond blurry shapes. "He didn't come out, so I'll assume he got whacked or something."

"Bloody hell." Sirius barks out a laugh. I dig into my pockets to fish for the coin.

"It's got a weird feeling to it as well, I meant to tell you when I found it, but I think you were working late that night. Ah!" I find the golden coin. Tonks looks a bit put out by missing something due to work.

"It feels weird?" Sirius goes to grab it, I snatch the coin away.

"He's the only human to ever touch it." Hedwig pipes up. "He's very protective of it." She smirks. But it's not that making it feel strange.

"Hey! Do you know how rare it is to find an unsoiled galleon?" I say indignantly. "All the dirty, sweaty palms that coins have sat in." I shudder. "I'm just glad that Gringotts cleans then every so often. I paid for my lunch with a galleon that'd been in a Knockturn Alley whore's arsehole for God's sake! _That_ didn't make the sandwich taste any better." Sirius, predictably, howls with laughter, much to the irritation of the people nearby.

"Merlin, I'd not even thought about when all the money's been." Tonks looks a bit queasy after cooling of from her own laughter. Something clicks in her head as she turns to Hedwig. "Didn't you say you found one that Hermione had? That's it."

"Yeah, it was one of the coins she used to pay for her wand with." She nods happily. The chances of finding that coin by chance are absolutely tiny.

"I'm going to hang onto it until her birthday." I say, patting my pocket. It'd be a bit of a naff present on it's own, I'll get her a book or something.

"What about the 'unsoiled' coin?" Sirius chuckles as we descend into the train station.

"Not sure. I was thinking of boring a hole through it and wear it as a necklace. A lucky charm." I shrug. Most respectable wizards wouldn't believe an unenchanted object could bring luck … well I don't either, but as I seem to either have extreme bad luck or extremely _good_ luck, I can just say it was the coin. That's it! I was hit with another unforgivable because I didn't have my lucky coin. Ingenious. "The platform is pretty busy now." I saw as we stop at the hidden gateway. "Maybe if you'd met us in the Leaky Cauldron rather than waiting for us to wake you up at home, we'd have been here earlier." I say accusingly to Sirius, who just laughs.

"You're not late 'til the train leaves." He proclaims, marching through the archway. Hedwig skips through after him.

"If you happen to find yourself patrolling the Ravenclaw tower this year..." I smile suggestively at Tonks.

"I _might_ sneak up to your room, to check for intruders." She hooks her arm with mine as we walk through the gate.

"You? Sneak?" I snort, making her smile more. "My cloak might be better than most, but I think you could still overpower it." I smile affectionately, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Oh, I could be Hedwig! Nobody would look twice!" Her eyes sparkle at the possibilities.

"Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?"

"You don't know the half of it." She says haughtily. It's now, as I look away from her, that I notice the plentiful looks cast at me. Can't a bloke just fight terrorists and be tortured without drawing attention? "Won't you be having a fun year, dealing with all these hormones." She laughs softly into my ear. She's a little bit shorter than me at the moment, sporting lightning blue spikes. I'd managed to talk her out of 'wearing' all black and acting like a soon-to-be army widow on the platform.

"Was that an invitation?" I ask just before spotting Sirius doing his best to rile up an, already scowling, Lucius Malfoy. "Oh, _Lord_ Black, _Lord_ Malfoy. So nice to see you again." I greet with my smarmiest smile. Sirius turns to me with a wide grin. Lucius glares at me with the utmost contempt. I should feel more hatred towards a man that tried to kill me, but I don't.

" _Lord_ Potter! I see that you already know _Lord_ Malfoy." Sirius and I both turn to the irate blond with matching smiles. Tonks is, of course, scowling at the man. He _did_ attempt to kill me after all. Whilst I'd like to spill his entrails onto the tracks, the others on the platform might not enjoy nor understand. "Oh _Lord,_ look at the time!" I exclaim. I probably won't use my new title for anything other than annoying people, it's best to get some practice. "I simply _must_ be getting onto the train." Lucius, having apparently had enough, sweeps away, storming along the platform.

"Hah! To think James and I never thought to do that!" Sirius rubs his hands together gleefully. The train's whistle … whistles.

"Right, I'll see you at Christmas? Assuming I don't get killed or something." I smile, rubbing my half-blind eye. "Where'd Hedwig go?"

"On the train." Sirius supplies. She's probably found Hermione already.

"Alright then Anne Bonny." I flip Tonks' eye-patch and hug her. "As much as I'd love a good smooch, I think some of the old folk would faint."

"Might get their blood pumping a bit." She bites her lip and smiles. "I'll be around Hogwarts more in a couple of months." She adds quietly, the tournament is supposed to be a secret, after all.

"I'll miss you."

"Try and hold out for me, lover boy." She smirks as the train whistles again. "Try and find Hermione a man too." She pushes me towards the train. I climb up onto the step and slide my grip on the walking stick about halfway down as the train starts to move. Sure, it wasn't the most romantic send off, being watched closely by a dozen people, but at least I got to see her before she had to work today. The last thing she does before sliding out of view is flip her eye-patch back down and blow me a kiss. The smile persists on my face until I find Hermione sitting beside Draco with Hedwig opposite. Draco looks pleased with himself, which isn't uncommon, but he sports a bloodied lip.

"Harry!" Just a week ago, I'm sure one of Hermione's hugs would've felt like the second coming of the cruciatus. "Are you ok? Hedwig said you were completely blind and missing both legs."

"What? Who said that?!" I demand, waving my hand out in front of me, patting Hermione's head. "Ah, Cousin It!" Hermione slaps my hand away, giggling.

"I'm glad to see you're OK." She still watches me cautiously as we sit down.

"I'm ain't gonna snap in half, Hermione." I assure her, resting my cane on my knees, looking over at Draco. "So he's not told you what happened yet?" I make the assumption, looking at his busted lip.

"No." She huffs. Draco laughs. Not a huge laugh, but not the disgusted laugh he saves for most people.

"It's nothing noteable." He shrugs, serving to tick off Hermione further.

"Alright, spill the beans." I say, but the saying doesn't mean anything to him. "What happened? Try and feel up what's-her-name?" I ask enthusiastically. I'm not sure who else would hit Draco Malfoy. It doesn't look like a spell either.

"Who?" He looks affronted.

"Damn. I thought you fall for it and give me a name." I grin. I'm sure it'd work on some people.

"If you _must_ know, my father was trying to … advise me on my choice of acquaintances." He gestures to the three of us. "I, quite defiantly, if I do say so myself, told him to reconsider some of his own." He says smugly, clicking his fingers once. "And then this happened." He points to his mouth. My jaw drops.

"What the...?" My shocked face slowly turns into an open-mouthed grin. I don't even have a meaningful equivalent in anything I've ever done that matches that. He stood up to his Father. I don't have anyone like that to clash with, it'd be like Hermione slapping McGonagall or something. "Draco, you are my idol for the day. Well maybe just the next few minutes.

"I always knew you were an annoying prick, but you actually managed to get slapped." Hedwig laughs. Hermione doesn't seem to find it all as funny.

"You should be more careful. With everything that's happened, he might've hurt you." She looks worried.

"Lighten up, Hermione." I nudge her shoulder. "He might be mostly insane, but he'd never properly hurt his son. It's like being spanked, it's for discipline." Hedwig mutters something about being disciplined by me, but Hermione ignores it.

"Would you at least let Harry fix it?" She continues to glare at Draco until he crumbles.

"Fine." He folds his arms. I pop my Holly wand out. "If you do anything _other_ than heal the cut..." He glares at me.

"Wouldn't dream of it." My grin doesn't seem to make him relax. Why is that?

* * *

"I'm going to search for Crabbe and Goyle. Make sure they haven't forgotten to breathe in my absence." Draco smirks at the thought, leaving the compartment.

"Are you really OK?" Hermione asks me, almost immediately after the door closes.

"I'm fine." I smile at her. "A little bit sore and this eye doesn't work 100%."

"And the walking stick?"

"I'd still wager he can walk better than Tonks." Hedwig chimes in, smugly. Hermione turns back to me.

"I'm alright, really." I smile. "Better than the healers expected, but I might've helped myself along a bit." I admit ambiguously, leaning my back against the seat. It's good to be going back to Hogwarts, despite having a good summer. "So, how are you? Any summer romances?"

"Nothing as extravagant as yours." She counters.

"That wasn't a no." I say leadingly. "Who is it?" She doesn't look like she's going to tell me. "Tell me about him?"

"I don't know how to get their attention." She looks down at her hands in her lap. I look over at Hedwig, who shrugs.

"What's he like? Interests, hobbies – That sorta thing." I offer.

"Well... They like Quidditch." She frowns a bit. "But I'm not overly fond of it..."

"Opposites attract, or so they say." I shrug.

"Maybe." She sighs. "They're nice, kind, and the most wonderful smile." I think she's blushing a bit. "There's a bit of an age difference."

"That's nothing worry about." I assure her. "Unless it's somebody decades older... Wait, _please_ tell me it's not Sirius." I clutch at my chest.

"No!" She slaps my arm. I slump in the seat dramatically.

"Thank god for that." I don't know what I'd have done if she'd said yes honestly. "He's in Hogwarts though?" She nods.

"What should I do?" Hermione Granger has a crush.

"You're a Gryffindor! Go up to him and do something!" I say enthusiastically. "Fortune favours the bold apparently." I shrug. "Until you get hit by the cruciatus, of course. Then not so much." I laugh.

* * *

 **A/N: I think i'm losing my edge a bit, Maybe slowing down will help.**

 **In response to a review left by 'Azofeifa': Harry likes girls. Hedwig sort of 'inherited' this. Harry also likes himself, but not in the same way as Hedwig currently does. She was orginially an owl, but swans can be gay (Which i think is really nice) but the point is that she isn't an owl any more.**

 **I think if you really read into this chapter you may be able to figure out who Hermione fancies, but it's vague, purposefully so. Don't fret too much, it'll become clear soon.**

 **Enjoy.**


	37. Chapter 37: A favour

**A/N: To lightly touch on why we have yet to see Harry using a lot of the stuff he knows - Knowledge for the sake of knowledge. He loves to learn things, even if they aren't always pretty.**

 **And Gringotts says he can't ward the flat himself without approval.**

 **Quick post-update edit - 100,000 words! Including the A/Ns, but 100k!**

* * *

Chapter 37: A favour

"They're all looking at you differently." Hermione tells me as we walk to the Thestral-drawn carriages after getting off the train.

"Busy summer." I smirk.

"He's important now." Ginny, having caught up with us on the train, accompanies us to the carraiges.

"I was important before." I retort, to which she rolls her eyes. "Ladies first." I make a sweeping bow as we reach an empty carriage. Back to doing normal things whilst not under threat of death – The way it should be. Well maybe not for me.

"And they say chivalry's dead." Hermione says as I climb up after them.

"Well I'm supposed to be some snobbish Baron now." I joke. "Have to play the part. I've still got a lot of junk to sift through." I pat my pocket. "A trunk full of contracts and shit that I'll start working through after dinner. And don't think you can fly away from it!" I say the last part to Hedwig. "If I'm to be subjected to that, I want some company."

"But why torture me too?" She whines.

"It might be fun?" I offer weakly. I can already feel the oncoming headache. "Maybe we could rile up the anti-Harry brigade to lift our spirits, then look through them." The Anti-Harry brigade, affectionately coined by Tonks, are a small group of students in my house who seek to antagonize me. Quite where their dislike of me comes from, maybe I lose us far too many house points - I don't know, but it's better for them to focus on me than Luna. Although that's only applies to Marietta Edgecombe. Hedwig seems to weigh her options.

"Fine." She says, not looking terribly happy as she rests her head sorrowfully on my shoulder. Hermione looks like she has a lot of questions, or she's constipated.

"Harry, Do _you_ know who the new Defence professor is?" Ginny asks me. "Fred and George said they knew, but when I threatened them, they said it was going to be you."

"Me?" I laugh. "I think applicants need at _least_ a NEWT in the subject to apply, but the Governors would preferably want a mastery." I explain, scratching my chin. "But if _Lockhart_ could get the job, I couldn't do any worse than him."

"So you don't know?" She asks again, I shake my head. "I thought Professor Dumbledore would've told you."

"Last I checked, he didn't have anyone lined up." I shrug. "But I've not seen him since I was in St Mungos."

It starts to rain. Hard. 'The Heavens open' sounds like a glorious saying, but in reality it's just very wet and cold.

"Why don't these things have roofs!" Ginny shrieks, hastily pulling the hood on her robe up over her head. Hermione mimics the action a second later. Why _don't_ these carriages have roofs?

"If only we had magical powers to save us." I lament. "You know, I once made it rain to cover up a fire. The smoke would've been a problem even with the rain though. I wond-"

"Harry." Hedwig cuts off my rambling. "Just stop us getting soaked."

"It's a good story." I say, flicking the Elder Wand. My elder wand? I'll get used to it some day. The wood extends upwards and quickly flattens out into a wide, bright pink umbrella with white spirals curling from the centre. It's large enough to cover the four of us if we lean in a bit. It's a masterpiece.

"Where did you even learn to do that?" Ginny looks impressed, Hermione looks reluctant to show the same emotion.

* * *

I love looking at people's magic. Souls, auras, cores – Whatever people call them, they are spectacular. Even more so now that they hold so much more than I've previously been able to see. The complexities that each core holds, the swirling and crackling colours flowing through the ever-shifting shape. I'm drawn out of my trance as Hedwig nudges me with her elbow. I'm sure I've listened to far too many of Albus' welcoming speeches now, and I even helped him think of a way to break it to the school that there'd be no Quidditch cup this year. 'Dash their hopes, then break out the tournament.' were my exact words.

"...I have the esteemed pleasure of announcing that, this year, Hogwarts will play host to an incredibly exciting event." He lets that hang for a second. "The legendary Triwizard Tournament."

"You're joking!" George or Fred shout from across the hall.

" _Did I miss anything?_ " I ask Hedwig a she laces our fingers together. At some point during the feast, I'd completely zoned out.

" _Hmm. Moody is the Defence professor, no Quidditch. Oh, and Roger Davies has been glaring at you."_ I glance up at Moody before looking at the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I'm sure he blames me for no cup this year, as if _I_ was the one to propose the tournament.

" _Reckon he'll be having us doing Auror drills in an extra curricular, 3AM class."_ I say as we turn our attentions to the one-eyed man.

" _You wouldn't have a problem with that."_ Hedwig points out. " _Physically anyway._ "

" _It's bit earlier than my morning runs, but I'd be up for it._ " I shrug. " _But can you imagine Draco trying to_ _run_ _?"_

" _He does play Quidditch, so he's not as bad as you think._ " She reasons.

" _I suppose not._ " I agree, rubbing my chin.

" _I get your point though. Most of these lot probably wouldn't last long enough to not be hexed by Mad-Eye."_ Is he that bad? Tonks _did_ say he attacked her on the toilet more than once. " _I'm a bit surprised that he's here at all."_

" _Why's that?_ " I ask, turning to her."

" _He was in the Prophet a lot, he'd been helping with the Death Eaters, right? Not all of them have been processed yet._ "

" _Ah._ " The ones that had more money to throw, and the better they were at acting like they'd been imperiused, were let out within two days of the attack. Something like 20 are still locked up. It's despicable. Tonks is, understandably, furious. They are fighting the clearance to use veritaserum, which only has clearance because of corrupt officials and the very people currently locked up. It's disgusting, but the most troubling part is that they performed the attack anyway. Unless they've got plans to dig Voldy out of whatever hole he crawls into, they wouldn't bother making this show. It's ominous, unsettling, and instil me with confidence about the security of the school this year. I'm tugged out of my brooding by … well Hedwig tugging on my arm. I've managed to not notice Albus dismissing the hall for the night. _"I think Moody only cracks heads, he doesn't stay around for the questioning these days._ " I explain to her after standing up.

I think more than a few people are staring as us as we shuffle out with the rest of the school. I've never felt like the door is wide enough, but hey – It could be smaller. Some students stay just outside the Great Hall to converse with their friends, but the prefects quickly spot them.

"Missster Potter." The sound of a thousand angels reaches my ears. A thousand angels with lank, greasy hair and hooked noses that is. I turn to _Professor_ Snape and do all I can not to smirk.

"Professor Snape, sir." I greet him with an overly respectful tone. His jaw tightens as he glares at me. Nearby Gryffindor students hastily scamper down the corridor to avoid any Snape-related collateral. Nobody has any points yet, but that won't stop him giving out detentions.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you in his office at once." I'd expected for him to wait a few days, so it's probably not just going to be a social visit. Snape turns his attention to Hedwig after I nod in acceptance. "Miss..."

"Potter." She supplies happily.

"Miss Potter is not required." He sneers. I turn to Hedwig, squeezing her hand softly.

" _You can come anyway, if you want."_ I tell her through our laced fingers.

"Hello, Harry Potter. Hello, Professor Snape." Snape actually looks a bit shocked by Luna's sudden appearance beside him. "I can show Hedwig to the tower if you like." She offers with a serene smile. A brief flicker of anger crosses Hedwig's mind, she always hated how the others treated Luna. 'How could they do that to such a sweet girl?'

"Ok, Luna." Hedwig kisses my cheek. "I'll see you later." And just to my head. " _Try not to start any fight?"_ I give her a grin as our hands break apart and she follows Luna.

* * *

"Ah, Harry!" Albus greets me with a smile as we enter his office. "Thank you, Severus."

"Headmaster." Snape bows his head and stomps out of the room. He should be in his own common room now, so it's _almost_ understandable why he's irritated. Almost. This is still Severus Snape. The only other occupants of the room are Fawkes and Moody. The magical eye follows me as I sit in my customary seat, catching glimpses of a conversation where Moody was limping around the room angrily. I wish I could touch his eye … the magical one. Just to get a glimpse of how it works, or even how it was made.

"Alastor?" Albus says, clasping his hands on front of him, looking over at the grizzled veteran.

"I need your help, Potter. A favour." Moody says bluntly.

"You need not accept, of course." Albus interjects.

"Is it school related?" I ask, Moody shakes his head. "Will it be dangerous?" I lean my walking stick against Albus' desk. "I'll not be much good at the moment... No offence." I add, smiling a bit. Moody sort of laughs.

"Very mundane." Moody assures me. "But things have a way of quickly escalating." Especially when I'm involved.

"Alright, sure." I stand up again. "You both look ready to roll, so it's not in this office."

"Very astute." Albus smiles. "Perhaps a change of clothes are in order for yourself." I look down at my school robes.

"I'll need to tell Hedwig that I'm going to be back late too."

* * *

"What do you think he needs?" Hedwig asks whilst she lays on my bed as I change.

"No idea, but he'll owe me later, So there's some sort of reward." I pull the grey tshirt over my head. "I'd have done it even if the word 'favour' hadn't been used." I turn to her. "How'd you get in here by the way?" I'd warded the door when I first learnt about wards. She just shrugs.

"I asked where your room was, L-L-Lisa, or something, showed me." She explains. I glance over at the door, which is still warded and unmolested. "The Goblins said something like this could happen, right?"

"That's what I was thinking." I nod. "We'll test it some more some time." I pull a hoodie out of my trunk and hold it against myself, Hedwig gives it her 'expert eye'.

"No. Too yobbish." Yobbish? I'm not even sure if that's a real word. I drop it back into the trunk. "Just wear the one you had on the train.

"It's literally the exact same thing."

"It has a zip on the front!" She protests. A navy blue hoodie versus a navy blue 'jacket'. "What am I supposed to do whilst you're gone?" She rolls over onto her front, burying her face in the pillow.

"You could hang around with Luna?" I suggest. "Or find the Gryffindor common room. I don't think there are windows in the Slytherin one, so you can't go and pester Draco for me, we've got a whole summer of catching up to do."

"'Spose so." She says, voice muffled. She turns her head to free her mouth up. "So you've got no idea what the old farts want?"

"Nope." I shrug, zipping the not-a-hoodie-but-similar-looking jacket up. "I know that Albus has asked Alastor to keep an eye on our flat for the past week, maybe something to do with that?"

* * *

 **A/N: Moody is the _real_ Moody. He just happened to not be in on August 31st. Feedback appreciated.**

 **I've got some big things planned for the future, hopefully I can do them justice.**

 **Enjoy!**


	38. Chapter 38: The favour

**A/N: The words used to pour from my fingers, now it's a bit more tricky. Maybe the quality will be better. Quality over quantity, eh?**

* * *

Chapter 38: The favour

I stumble a little as I land from Albus' side-along. It's dark, but this appears to be a detached house in the middle of a muggle street. Alastor's home. I take a step away from Albus and Alastor arrives with a crack. There's a little cobble path leading to the front door and a low fence around the garden. I don't know what I thought Alastor's home would look like, maybe a converted WWII bunker? Definitely not a cosy little house in the middle of the London, although maybe it makes sense. He's 'settled down' from his career. Well, _previous,_ career. Now he gets to teach at Hogwarts!

"I hope you've not invited me here for a cup of tea." I say to the one-eyed man. "I've got a warm bed waiting for me at school. _Professor._ " He grunts, I think it was a laugh.

"We've work to do." He says, limping towards his front door.

"Which you still haven't explained to me." I point out to him. Neither of the old men had spoken much as we walked to the ward line of Hogwarts.

"In the early hours of the morning, Alastor's house was breached." Albus explains to me with a frown. "Nothing was taken, so this was no robbery. The charms surrounding the building would not have allowed a muggle thief to enter the property, which lead Alastor and I to the conclusion that the intent was to attack him." I look around as he talks.

"Why didn't it work?" I ask.

"Alastor was not home." Albus' eyes twinkle, which means there is more to it than he is saying.

"He was watching my flat." Albus doesn't answer. "What's he doing in there?" I nod my head towards the house.

"I believe if the 'alarm' is not disabled within a short time of arrival, the reactive wards will … makes our lives difficult." He explains. Al- _Moody_ is a paranoid old bastard. I need to get used to calling him 'Professor Moody' too.

"That'd be fine if there were actually any wards left." I say, continuing at Albus' questioning look. "There's nothing here." I gesture to the fence. "Well there is _something_ here, but nothing more than shattered magic. The wards are completely shattered, he won't have anything to disarm."

"Potter's right." Alastor limps towards us, leg clunking on the stone.

"And the favour is to figure out who did this? Even if they didn't steal anything or hurt you, they can still be charged with property damage."

"Whoever did this has more to their name than property damage. Now get on with it." He gives my shoulder a shove towards the fence.

"Alright, alright." I hit his shin with my walking stick. "Why do you want me to do this?" I ask him, pacing along his garden to try and lay my feet on something."

"To find to bastards that-"

"No, why do you want _me_ to do this, Why not somebody else?" I ask again. He crosses his arms, leaving his own staff standing upright beside him.

"When we were at Rufus's house a few years ago, I watched you. I wondered why we had a schoolboy, a first year no less, on a crime scene. You looked relaxed pacing around the place, but your eyes – They saw more. You focussed on things halfway between yourself and the nearest object, the minute frowns and tightening of your pupils. You could _hear_ Rufus." He explains gruffly.

"And I thought I was being subtle." I laugh. Nobody else could catch it because nobody else can see my eyes rotating in my skull from every angle and use the positions to calculate where I was looking. "I suppose we can skip the theatrics of sniffing it out then." I point to the fence. "There's a denser spot of magic lingering about 4 feet above the ground, this is likely where the person, or people, were standing when they fractured the wards. Judging by the time since the attack, what's left of the wards and how dense the puncture spot is, you had some pretty heavy wards sitting here. It's _highly unlikely_ that a single person could have done this, or even a group. So they either performed a sacrifice ritual out of the street to summon enough power to brute force through like they did, or they've got some sort of tool. Both scenarios don't bode well."

"Will you be able to tell?" Albus asks. I nod and walk towards the fence.

"Fuck!" I shout as I step on one of the spots where the intruders had. I bring my walking stick over my head and start hitting the fence. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Harry. _Harry!"_ Albus raises his voice slightly to be heard after I snap the walking stick.

"Peter Pettigrew is still in England." I straighten up and brush my hair out of my eyes. "And, if I'm not mistaken, Barty Crouch Junior isn't really dead." I hand Albus the splintered walking stick and climb over the fence.

"Impossible. I saw the body. He died there." Moody says through gritted teeth.

"And that's the conundrum." I agree. "Officially, Barty Crouch Jr was pronounced dead in 1982, but I can tell you with 100% certainty that Barty Crouch Jr was standing beside Peter Pettigrew on this spot at quarter past one this morning." I stand up and look over the whispers' shoulders. "They had a … tablet of some kind. Barty was apprehensive that it would work, but Peter assured him that it was specifically designed for the wards around your house." I climb back over the fence after the tablet is activated, following the whispers across the garden. "So how is it that Junior is still alive? Surely somebody would have noticed."

"He is dead." Moody growls as we pass into his house.

"If you can somehow procure documentation for me to enter Azkaban, I'd take a look at his cell." I offer as I inspect the intruders in the kitchen. "It looks like something was either overlooked when he supposedly died, or he's come back from the dead. Either way, One of the most fanatical Death Eaters of the war walking free poses a big problem." I brush past the two old men and walk to the bottom of Moody's stairs. Peter and Barty had only spent 2 minutes up there before coming back down, not much to see. Albus hands my walking stick back, now in pristine condition. "I'll follow them back outside to wherever they apparated back from, see if they said anything particularly incriminating. Like the address to their secret hideout."

"It would be unlikely, but we may gain some knowledge." Albus nods, troubled by the apparent resurfacing of Barty and Peter. Alone, either might not be a huge issue, but together? Vive la Death Eaters. I open the front door and follow the twosome across the grass, climbing back over the fence as they did. My limp hasn't been too bad tonight, hopefully it should clear up in a couple of days, granted I continue to apply my healing charms.

"What are you thinking?" I ask Albus after we cross the road, Moody limps beside him. I'm sure that the three of us make quite a sight, if it wasn't so dark, that is.

"I believe you once told me you wished to never cross paths with a dementor." Albus says. "What changed?"

"I suppose I'm curious. What a dementor feels like, what they really look like. I've read that Azkaban was once so horrific that the investigators didn't even record what they saw. It stained them." I lead our odd trio into an alleyway not far from Moody's house. "They say curiosity killed the cat, my animagus is a wolf, so on that logic I'll be fine." I joke, stopping at the point that Peter and Barty did.

"In practice, I do not think it will hold true." Albus puts on his smile that he usually wears when humouring me.

"We'll see." I shrug, tapping my walking stick on the floor. "They didn't say anything, just used the portkey from this spot so they wouldn't be seen I think. Barty used a charm to screw with the magical signature of the portkey as well as his own, so couldn't be found via typical methods." I say, injecting an iota of smugness into my voice as I turn back to my companions with a sigh. "Well, that's all there is to it. Obviously my word won't hold up for anything with the DMLE, but I guess my use for tonight is done?" Albus nods.

"Thank you for you assistance, Harry. I dare say what we have learnt tonight will become important in the not too distant future. Is there anything else of note?" He asks.

"I don't think so." I shake my head, looking up and down the alleyway. "There were a couple of wizards walking down here the other night, just along the path we just took too, but they didn't say anything."

"Here?" Moody's eye spins in his head. "Too close to be a coincidence." He says, walking back out into the street. I follow him into the middle of the road.

"They might've just been walking." I offer.

"Describe them." He orders. I scoff.

"I'm not a miracle worker, all I know is that they walked by." I regret mentioning it now.

"Are there any traps? Anything that could be tripped?" He draws his wand and casts a few charms. I head over to the pavement to look for clues. I can see how Tonks gets tired of his company.

"No, Moody. There's just some old wards floating here, vague stuff." I continue to follow the two 'suspicious' persons slowly. "I was thinking of getting a snake, Albus." I say absently. "There's that old rule about parselmouths and being allowed a snake, regardless of current pets and familiars." I hear him sigh in exasperation.

"Then I cannot protest." I'm sure he's shaking his head. I've made it about 3 metres when Moody roughly grabs my shoulder and pulls me back.

"There." He flicks his wand on the pavement, pulling up a section of the tarmac. What is he even doing? I walk around him to see where he's looking. I wouldn't mind having a magical eye, he can see straight through clothes, although that ability isn't all it's cracked up to be. "Runes." He's right. Beneath the, now torn up, footpath lies old bricks from the previous path, a small set of runes are inscribed onto the bricks. I frown as I crouch down, running my fingers over the outside of the hole.

"It's been pulled up recently, only a couple of days ago. Those two wizards from the alley." The old man was right. I stroke the bricks. The old Victorian bricks, manufactured in London itself, lain in- "Err, sorry. It's an alarm, We've triggered it." I stand up abruptly, pulling my invisibility cloak from my pocket. Now that I've gotten two of the Peverell heirlooms, it's revealed more to me. Like it's rather potent resistance to spells.

"Who are they?" Moody is now on full alert, looking up and down the street, the false eye spinning madly.

"They wanted you to trigger it so they could kill you, simple really." I throw the cloak around my shoulders and set my foot back into the hole. "Short range, only spans London. You were right about things escalating." I joke, he growls are me. A sharp crack signals the arrival of the assassins, a moment later brings the killing curse sailing uselessly past us, then another crack as they vanish. What the hell just happened?

"Come." Moody shoves my shoulder, forcing me to limp beside him to where they just were, right in front of his house.

" _Avada Kedavra!" The man shouts, the killing curse hurls from his wand._

" _Shit, that's Dumbledore and Potter!" His accomplice takes a step back, still holding his wand up._

" _Fuck." The first man curses. "The bounty's not worth it. C'mon." They disapparate._

"There's a bounty on you." I tell Moody, leaning on my walking stick tiredly. "They saw Albus and I, so they decided to make themselves scarce. Not worth the coin to attempt it." I slip my finger underneath my eye-patch to rub my eye, it serves me a blurry image before the patch covers it again.

"Only two?" Moody grumbles. "It was five last time."

"People have tried to kill you before?" I ask. "Assassinate I mean, I'm sure plenty've tried their hand at it before." He laughs gruffly, resting his hands on the head on his staff, just below the height of his chin. It's odd that I'm striking a similar pose but at waist height.

"Nobody stays in this game for as long as I have without making enemies." His eye spins and focuses on me. "Who were they?"

"Mark Cowl and Nicolas Scherzer. Not local. German accent maybe?" I explain, spinning my cane as I walk around the two frozen whispers. "I guess you can add a 'discharge of an unforgivable in a muggle area' to Mark Cowl's list of crimes."

"It'd never stick." Moody says as he watches me intently.

"That's the problem with what I can do I suppose." I seem to be asking Moody to keep a lot of secrets. He must be used to it now, seeing things that others don't. Damned eye. "Well, what's a little late night excursion without a murder attempt?" I grin, Albus seems less tense now.

"So, Crouch and Pettigrew." Moody repeats the names pensively. "I owe you one, Potter, but I'd prefer to not have it hanging over my head." He smirks. "Whad'ya want, lad? I'm sure you've already decided." I swear the man has a split personality. It'd explain a lot actually. Mental.

"Your wand. Just for a few seconds." I bite my lip, hoping he doesn't decline.

"Why?" His good eye narrows suspiciously.

"Honestly? Because you're left handed." He seems to have already figured out what most others wouldn't be able to, so I don't have to give him my faux-wandmaker speech. I still feel kinda bad about doing it to Bill. Moody looks over at Albus, who shrugs. I always love it when he shrugs, it's so 'un-Dumbledore'.

"Fine." Moody draws his wand, tapping the tip against his right palm, debating for the last time before holding it out to me. Aspen, unsurprisingly. 9 inches on the dot with a dragon heartstring. Purchased on August 14th1946 from Ollivander's. Decades of gritty Auror work and fighting. 17 spells landed on Voldemort in the war. The first left-handed wand I've encountered as none of the Elder Wand's users have been lefties. I quickly hand him back his wand, lest we be attacked again.

"Well, I guess we're done for tonight?" I ask, flexing my fingers.

"Indeed." Albus nods, seeming distracted. "I shall leave you in Alastor's capable hands, I have business to attend to in the Ministry." He smiles.

"Right." I laugh. How to do legally allow a fourteen year old into Azkaban? "And remember, Azkaban demands a larger payment for my services!" I call as he walks away.

"Goodnight, Harry." He waves, not turning back.

Just your everyday failed assassination. How often does this happen for the pair of them not to ever be phased? I sigh and grab onto Moody's arm.

* * *

I sneak through the castle under my cloak and, still sneaking for some reason, enter my bedroom. I drop the cloak onto the floor and discard my jacket.

"Yer back." Hedwig mumbles, rolling over under the duvet sleepily. "Anything exciting?"

"Cloak and dagger stuff. Only one unforgivable." I kick my jeans off and crawl into bed. "Peter's about. Hopefully they can catch the rat." I kiss her forehead. She snuggles against my chest.

"Maybe." She sighs contently against my tshirt. "Why do you sleep with a shirt on all the time? Always meant to ask."

"We can't all be as confident in our skins as you." I explain. She hums.

I don't think I would heal the scars even if it were possible.

"G'night." She tangles one of her legs with mine.

I think I'll enjoy having company in here this year.

"Night, Hedwig."

* * *

 **A/N: Haha! More wand stealin'.**

 **The reasons for this chapter will become clear, or clearer, in the future. It wasn't just a random attack, and of course it will lead to investigation of Barty Jr.**

 ***Inane mumbling about update speed***

 **Let me know what you think of the chapter; Thoughts, suggestions, love poems etc.**

 **Enjoy!**


	39. Chapter 39: Return of the Magi

**A/N: My computer has kind of died (the motherboard is slowly melting. It's not pretty), so i've had most of this chapter ready for a while, but here we are!**

* * *

Chapter 39: Return of the Magi (haha)

Hermione had worn a frown whilst I was explaining what happened last night. A perfect tale to tell over breakfast. She hadn't known who Barty Jr was, but promised to look into it later, more for her own desire than to clue me in. The news that Peter was, once more, on the scene here has drawn out a mixed reaction.

"On the one hand it's worrying." She says, talking quietly as to not be heard despite nobody sitting near us right now. "The attack on the world cup and now this? But also it could mean he could be caught, which is good, isn't it?"

"It _would_ make me feel a bit better." I agree. "Sirius too." I watch as the first owls trickle into the hall.

"Must you go to Azkaban though?" Hermione asks anxiously.

"Nobody else'll be able to figure anything else out." I shrug. "What's the worst that could happen?" I snatch the falling Daily Prophet from the air, she rolls her eyes.

"Show off. And you could be kissed!" She hisses.

"Was that an offer?" I hold the paper out across the table for her. She rolls her eyes again and swipes the paper from my hand. "Your eyes will roll out of your head if you keep doing that. I hear that's what happened to Moody." I tap just below my eye-patch.

" _Professor_ Moody." She corrects me, unrolling the newspaper. "Where is Hedwig today?"

"Up in the owlery." Why can't the Prefects hand out our timetables earlier?

"Is that a joke?"

"No, she really is." I assure her, waiting for the opportune moment to tell her what she's doing there. Hermione lifts her drink. "She can see a couple of seventh year girls sucking face up there." Hermione, predictably, spits and coughs the pumpkin juice onto the paper.

"W-what!?" She chokes out.

"She likes to be an owl still, quite what she's doing in the owlery is beyond me." I shrug. Something brushes up against my leg, a cat. I watch as the brown tabby wanders under the bench again, which reminds me... "Where's Crookshanks?" Hermione dabs the pumpkin juice from the paper and points down the table. The ball of orange fur is sprawled out at the far end of the Gryffindor table beside Ginny, who is scratching his soft underbelly, much his delight apparently. "Ah, so he's moved onto his newest fixation?" Early in our third year, up until around Christmas time maybe, Crookshanks would pester me at breakfast to be petted and often followed me around in my nightly travels under my cloak. "So... Why's your familiar getting so cosy with Ginny? Something you wanna tell me?" I say teasingly. Or I meant to. Hermione tenses. "Unless..." I look down the table. Loves Quidditch, age gap. "It's her, isn't it?!" I whisper excitedly. "Oh, I'm so _stupid!_ I was thinking it was one of the twins or Cedric. _That's_ why you were all dressed up that day in the summer?"

"Harry!" She squeaks. "Don't tell her!"

"Come on, Hermione, give me some credit. I've told you secrets that could endanger your life if you weren't practising occlumency, you can trust me with this." She looks relieved.

"Sorry." She sighs. "I should've told you."

"Nah." I wave her off. "It's not my business if you want to crawl into Ginny's bed or not." Hermione's face is now flushed red.

"It's not like that!" She denies, confirming my suspicions. "Hedwig isn't telling the truth!"

"I actually got this myself." I smile. " _When did you tease her about it?"_ I ask Hedwig.

" _When we all went shopping. Oh,_ _and it's_ a _bout time! I got it weeks ago!"_ She tells me smugly.

"Hedwig can hold back things from me, much like I do to save her the mental bombardment." I wiggle my fingers, the secret sign for 'psychometry stuff'.

"This is the most exhausting conversation I've ever had." Hermione drops her head into her arms. I bite back a laugh.

"It's not easy being this energetic." I pat her arm.

"I hate you." She shifts her head so she can glare at me.

"Thanks, it means a lot to me. Oh, look sharp – Your _girlfriend_ is coming over." I have to snatch my hand back to save it from being stabbed with a fork as Hermione growls at me.

"Woah, What's he done to deserve _that_?" Ginny asks, as she slides into the spot beside Hermione.

"Nothing." Hermione angrily reads the paper again.

"Totally innocent." I grin, slipping my bag over my shoulder. Looks like I'll have to collect my own timetable. I wouldn't put it past the others to not give it to me on purpose. "I'll see you two later. Can't be a Ravenclaw and not turn up early on the first day." I retrieve my walking stick and swing my legs over the bench.

It's an odd life.

* * *

"Busy first day?" I ask Albus as we sit in his office.

"No more than average." He stirs his tea a couple of times before the spoons takes over for him. "We still have just shy of two months before the tournament begins, then I may need Severus to bring me a headache potion each night." I grin and set my feet on his desk.

"Maybe make it two, an extra so you can deal with the headache that talking to him seems to bring." Albus doesn't look impressed. "The Prophet said that there will be French Aurors here too, is that true?"

"I am afraid so." Albus sighs, taking a sip from his mug. "Cornelius was giving quite an earful when he tried to assure the French Auror department that it was unnecessary, but they were adamant that, after the World Cup, that more security couldn't go amiss."

"And he didn't take it well?"

"As the discussion began to heat up, I had the misfortune of being spotted in my hiding place behind a potted plant." He sighs. I have to bite back a laugh at the thought of Albus hiding behind a potted plant. "Threats were made to escalate the request to 'my level' and so Cornelius agreed, for the good of the children. He may do something rash to 'prove' something."

"He should've just accepted the help instead of looking like an idiot. Tonks said they'd be spread thin enough to get proper coverage by themselves. That was ages ago, however. Erm... You don't think Fudge would send dementors here, do you?"

"I would not discount the possibility." He frowns.

"I could scare them off." I offer. "If you did it, you'd get into trouble, but if _I_ did it, then it'd just be a schoolboy trying not to get his soul eaten, right?"

"Harry..." He pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. I hold my palms up.

"I didn't say I was going to, but if they come here, just give me a subtle nod or something." I say innocently.

"Be aware that there may be laws against attacking them." He resigns himself to leaning back in his chair, trying his best not to smile.

"I'll just have to goad one of them and have Moody happen to be out for a stroll to spot me being attacked, then it's self defence." I shrug.

"The perfect plan." He shakes his head as he chuckles. "Have you any further plans for the night? I suspect you will want to be in top form tomorrow morning." He smiles at me over his half-moon glasses. Double potions first thing in the morning. Although he poses this as a question, it's just his way of saying 'Go straight back to your room'.

"I've not been in the Forbidden Forest for the whole summer! Of course I've still got things to do tonight." I jump up from my chair.

"Short of tying you to your bed, I cannot stop you from breaking the rules, but you should do well to remember that you are not above them, Harry." He says seriously.

"Detention tomorrow night then?" I lean against the door frame to his office.

"I believe Minerva has no engagements. Let us say seven o'clock sharp?"

"Not Snape?"

"I see no reason to punish Severus with your presence." He jokes, picking up his quill.

"Night, Albus!" I call out as I descend the spiral stairs.

* * *

In my latest expedition into the Forbidden Forest, I have ascertained that it is not walking stick friendly terrain. Being a wolf in the forest is fine, but a human with a walking stick is much less fun. I'm mostly OK without it now, but with the uneven flooring it's better to have something to lean on that isn't a tree. What am I really doing out here? Trying to find a dementor ambush point. Short of actually saying 'Fudge will post dementors at Hogwarts', Albus couldn't have been more obvious that it will happen. The Minister doesn't like being made to look like an incompetent fool, which is odd as he is an incompetent fool, so bringing in the 'big guns' after the French Ministry have offered their help will, in his mind, make him look clever and powerful.

If I do find myself under attack from a dementor or two, and I can't produce a patronus at all, then my contingency plan is to, heroically, run away into the forest. Zaldimar, the betrayer of the pixies, devised a magical trap so complex and powerful that he could trap a pixie attempting to shift into the fourth dimension, so I assume that it can, at the very least, slow a dementor down. I need to find a nice open area to set it up though. A body of water will also allow me to lift the water into the air and try and freeze them in place should all else fail.

After another five minutes of slow, cautious walking, and no doubt being followed, I find a pond about twenty feet across. Large thick trees around the outside will serve perfectly as the pillars for trap. I pop my trusty holly wand from it's holster and set to work. There is a large chance that all of this will be for nothing. No dementors, no chase, but I like to practice things sometimes. Sitting in Salazar's chamber for hours on end, pondering the theory just isn't the same. The trees in the Forbidden Forest probably drink up all the magically infused nutrients from the Earth, more specifically the ley lines, making them perfect candidates for anchored spells. This kind of spell casting isn't very flashy as it's just pressing the spells into the trees, although I could use runes for this, but I don't have years to work the spell out and create the structure, nor do I have the years of experience that Zaldimar had in the subject. Not the finer points anyway.

I step back from the tree and hear a crack behind me just as I am about to stow my wand which causes me to whirl round and raise my wand. For a reasonably adept duellist, my situational awareness is pretty poor. A girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, appears to have tripped over a tree's root in an attempt to back away from me. My wand vanishes back into the holster as I clear space between us, luckily the moonlight illuminates the area enough for me not to drop my walking stick into a magical badger hole or something. I crouch down beside her, trying not to look as frightening as she seems to see me.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask her. She looks familiar. Slytherin robes, black hair, red irises, and an odd poisonous, flowery scent that probably isn't perfume. She doesn't answer. What's her name? F-something. Maybe Venice? Florence! That's it. "You're Florence, right?" She looks surprised, but nods. "You're not mute, are you?"

"N-no." She stutters. I stand up and offer her a hand up. She brushes the mud off of her robes. Her hand is cold, but more like stone than ice. She is, of course, a vampire.

"So, why are you out here? Students aren't supposed to be in the forest." I rest both of my hands on the handle of my walking stick.

"I got lost." She mumbles, looking down at her feet.

"You didn't get lost and end up in the forest, you got lost as a result of coming out here." She doesn't say anything. "Fine then." I sigh. "I'm heading back to the castle now, and I'm not lost, so if you want to come back too..." She nods eagerly, looking up at me again. "Alright then. Just walk on my left, if we're attacked I want my casting hand not being blocked." She looks worried again. If we're going to be attacked by anything, she's the one with tougher skin.

"What were you doing to the trees?" She asks after we walk for a few minutes. So now she talks.

"Just setting a trap." I explain vaguely. "One can never be too careful." Especially when a person's soul is in danger of being eaten.

"For what?"

"Something unpleasant. You're a Sanguini, right? Maximus' sister?" The Sanguini Coven, or however they like to be referred to, are a 'family' of vampires that age to somewhere between 14 and their mid 20s then stop. They are fertile, which sets them apart from some of the other families, which means that they are not bitten to be turned. The family is supposed to be quite friendly… for vampires.

"How did you know?" She looks more shocked than scared now.

"A wild guess."

"Did you know Max?" Maximus, or 'Max', left after my second year.

"I never really had much interaction with him." He always seemed quite lively from what I've seen when sitting in chairs that he has or walking where he'd been. It doesn't take long to reach the edge of the forest. "So, you're not going to tell Snape you saw me out here tonight, and I won't tell him that I saw you out here either. Agreed?" She nods, smiling enough to show her teeth. Not how I expected my walk back from the forest to go, but at least she didn't try to drink my blood. "Wait, you weren't out here to eat, were you?" Her smiles turns more smirk-like before she turns and runs towards the castle.

I hope ever night isn't this exciting, I think I've had my fill already. Maybe I should put up some wallpaper in the Chamber of Secrets to make it more homely.

* * *

 **A/N: Harry and Albus banter, Harry figures out Hermione's crush, and Harry meets a new person. All in a day's work.**

 **The 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to find Them' second teaser came out today. I'm excited and might worm Newton Scamander into the story at some point, who knows?**

 **Let me know what you think of this one and, as ever, Enjoy!**


	40. Chapter 40: Journey to Azkaban

**A/N: My schedule is to try and write a chapter once a week. I'm not very good at that.**

* * *

Chapter 40: Journey to Azkaban

Just shy of three weeks into term is when Albus finally finishes arranging our outing to Azkaban to inspect Barty Crouch's cell. This seems to have involved a great deal more effort due to the fact that I will be accompanying them as a minor, but Albus always has his ways of assisting me into dangerous, and potentially fatal, situations. To further hamper his efforts, and maybe in an attempt to protect me, the only day they could offer him is today, Wednesday the 21st, which is a school day. Albus didn't budge, readily agreeing to the date, and graciously saying that I can be excused from my lessons tomorrow. Even if I feel perfectly fine, I'll be taking that offer. A free day with no classes? I'd be stupid to give it up – Ravenclaws are the clever ones, after all.

I'm taking advantage of the weather before it gets too cold and are sitting out by the lake with my violin, and Hedwig. I'm nervous about tonight, Who wouldn't be? Sirius has never really spoken about his time in Azkaban, but every other account I've read about the place indicates that it is an icy hell on Earth. The prison guards generally don't tend top stay more than a couple of years without a long break in a hotter climate to work the cold out of their bones. I checked out the Warden's journal I read in my first year to refresh my memory, the dementors seem to be the bit that makes the whole place so utterly unbearable. Turning even the most hardened of criminals into crying children. Quite how Sirius isn't completely insane is beyond me.

One of the largest points of concern is how psychometry will respond to the torments and horrors of the prison. Hopefully my 'worst memories' will only be selected from my own life, which pale compared to what the Elder wand has been used for since it's creation. If all else fails, I can _probably_ whip up a pretty potent patronus.

"You know you're just visiting and not being sentenced, right?" Hedwig lazes on the grass beside me. "You should be playing something more upbeat, not trying to become the Pied Piper for dementors."

"I'll have you know that this is a classical masterpiece by none other than the great William Boyce!" I say indignantly, pointing the bow at her. She rolls her eyes.

"Why are we all the way out here anyway?"

"Thought it'd be funny to make Moody walk all the way out here to collect me." I turn back to the lake to hide my smug smile.

"That's it – Piss him off again so he makes you the classes' moving target."

"He shouldn't have asked me to try and jinx him in the demonstration." Watching him trying and limp around with his wooden leg reduced by eight inches will forever be burned into my memory. As will the evil glint in his eye when he joined in the practice. ' _Even veterans have to practice! Constant vigilance!'_ He'd shouted when I questioned it.

"Potter!" Speak of the devil… "If think I'm going all the way out there to get you, you'll have another thing coming! Get your arse back up to the castle. Now." Moody's growling voice plays from his patronus. I let out a dramatic sigh.

"The man has _no_ sense of humour about these things."

* * *

Two portkeys later finds Moody, Albus and myself on a beach awaiting the boat. Moody doesn't _quite_ believe me about Barty, but I think it's more because he just doesn't want it to be true. Barty did unspeakable things in the war, nobody wants that to happen again… Except Barty.

Both Albus and Moody wear heavy frowns as the boat appears in the distance. A rickety old thing, perhaps once fit to hold ten people, but now it's clear that the only thing keeping it afloat is magic. The water is eerily calm around this section of the beach, completely unnatural with the added light from the quickly setting sun. I bet they time these to happen like this.

As the boat draws closer, I realise that it's empty. I shouldn't be so surprised, but I thought an Auror or one of the guards from the prison itself would be on it. Maybe that's only when a person is being imprisoned?

"Is it bad that I was hoping for a dementor with a captain's hat?" I ask Albus. He smiles weakly.

The boat eventually reaches the beach, the end props itself onto the sand of the unlikely staging area. I was expecting a little wooden gangway at the very least, not just the rickety boat. Moody goes first, climbing into the boat with a thud as with false foot steps down onto the wood. Albus follows him a moment later, looking up at me expectantly as he seats himself. I reach out for the edge and climb in.

It's cold, not in temperature, but it just feels so cold. Similar to when I first met Sirius, but so much more. The dementors seem to have a way of working their ice into everything they touch. The boat itself was built by a man named Julian Gill and his son, Joshua, in 1955, they used it for a few years before it seems to have been stolen and enchanted to act as a prison boat for Azkaban. Julian looks to have gotten out and the wizard that took it appeared only two minutes later. I can see that the Gill family used it for leisurely fishing as I sit down on the bench opposite Albus. I lean forward.

"Well, the boat's stolen, been in service since 1959, carried Sirius to and from prison, and also keeps the water calm." I tell him quietly as the boat pulls itself away from the shore. A strange twinge of fear sits in my stomach as we move further and further. I don't actually know how to swim. I settle for a tight grip on the bench. "How far in was Barty's cell?" I ask Moody, who I standing at the opposite end of the boat, staring out to the sea.

"Deep." Comes the response. I'd poke at him a bit, but I get the feeling he hates this place almost as much as Albus. "Should only take 10 minutes to get to the island, about the same to get to the cell." He turns around and sits on the bench with Albus.

"That's not so bad, right? Could be an hour to get there and back, plus the time inside." I shrug. "At least the boat keeps the water calm at these speeds." And stops the wind, but it is getting colder.

"Used to be rougher than this." Moody rubs his hands together, perching his staff against his shoulder. I'd given up my walking stick after a week back. I didn't need it to walk after the first few days, but McGonagall saw me tripping Fred and George simultaneously and confiscated it. They'd look bewildered until I took the disillusionment charm off it. The eye-patch went at around the same time, Hedwig had tried to fly with it on first which led to her almost getting lost in the forest. Turns out that birds need both eyes to navigate, who knew?

"Can you see wards with that?" I tap just under my own eye. He shakes his head. "Wonder what they will look like." A galleon says they are pink. A bet against myself? I'm losing the plot. "When do we pass the ward … line..." I watch my breath fog in front of me as we pass the line. "What in God's name..." I climb off the bench and climb to the prow to get a better view.

Black.

The entire island is surrounded in a black shroud of wards.

"Harry? What do you see?"

"Magic isn't supposed to be black..." It's beautiful in a dangerous and unknown sense. Does the magic being black make it different to any other colour? Even the Elder Wand, which is a pretty bad piece of business, is the same purple as my cloak. I flinch again as we pass a secondary line. I quickly turn to Albus and Moody. I point to the boat, then tap my ear, repeating the motion again. They seem to understand that there is a charm allowing somebody, I'm not sure who at this point, can listen to the boat. If there wasn't any chance they fire at us, I'd pretend to make a plan to break out a load of people. Dementors suck the fun out of things. Literally. I'd guess that the ward blocks scrying, an art I don't know much about, but it works both ways, so the folks inside Azkaban can't 'see' out.

"Black?" Albus seems a bit put out by that.

"It's like a slick, watery ichor floating around the island." The temperature seems to be getting colder each second we get closer. A patternless whirl of magic around the triangular prison. But why black? The island is small, so maybe the wild magic in the water makes for wards vastly different than what I have previously experienced. Perhaps it's the ley lines themselves. "Hmm." I climb up onto the edge of the boat, holding onto the prow, and look down into the ocean, straining my eyes trying to see the ley lines through the water. It's no use. I turn back to the fortress. Hopefully they weren't listening to us, but I don't think it would make much sense out of context. Maybe the ley lines will be clearer if I try looking once we are on land again.

We pass through another line of wards, more protections no doubt. I've gotten better at spotting what some wards tend to look like, but it's mainly blacks and greys. "Look." Moody is pointing into the sky, his wand is in his other hand. I squint, looking where he's pointing. It looks … to be a floating figure. A dementor. The creature is hard to make out in the low light, but it's icy presence is the unmistakeable chill that lingers on Sirius even to this day. The dementor isn't the only one patrolling the outer limits of this ward, there are others dotted around the sky, just lazily floating. They don't really look in the direction they are going, do they even have eyes? I can see the skeletal hands of the nearest one, just metres above the water. Tattered black cloaks draped over what appear to be their shoulders. Who gives them the cloaks? Do they come pre-tattered? Life-long to do list: Touch a dementor's cloak.

"Should I have my wand out?" I ask after realising that both of them do. I glance back up at the dementors. It looks like some of them have slowed down near us, I hope it's just my imagination.

"Constant vigilance." Moody growls, looking at the island with his real eye, no doubt judging the distance, whilst his prosthetic eye spins around in his head.

"Albus?" Anyone that has really studied the way Albus fights, or have directly fought him multiple times, will recognise the way he is standing. It looks casual enough whilst still being menacing. Feet apart, wand slightly pointing to his right, the way his head is facing. From this state, he can choose, aim, and cast a spell almost faster than anyone can see. He's hit me many times when I'm not fully paying attention to him. I think he is ready to be attacked.

Bugger.

I look over at Azkaban, willing the boat to move faster than it already is. Whilst the charms make it cut through the water extremely fast, the island is still far away. Looking between the dementors and the island really isn't helping my current anxiety on the matter. A glimmer of colour catches my attention. A wispy orange, but it's tied to something… A piece of wood? "Moody, You seeing that?" Must be handy to have a magical eye.

"Wha- runes!" He tries to flick his wand at the plank, but we pass through the orange ring.

Bugger.

The last time the three of us were on an adventure together resulted in us tripping some runes and triggering a trap. The boat stops. Fuck.

"Is this a bad time to say I've never cast a patronus before?" I ask, popping the Elder Wand into my hand. "We past through a ring created by that plank. Looks like it cut off the connection to the prison, and something else. Can you summon it before we get our souls sucked?" Trying to move the boat might cause it to sink or trip something else nasty.

"No use." Moody grunts, retraining his wand skywards. The dementors have started to slow around us in the sky. "The boat stops if something happens or a prisoner tries to escape. Set that charm off and the dementors swarm like bloody rats, sink the boat, then kiss you. If you're lucky." I have to hand it to 'them', this plan looks like it will be more effective.

"Why aren't they?"

"I don't know." He says. Wonderful. I point my wand to where we were.

" _Accio plank_." I try. Maybe the Elder Wand will have better luck summoning-

"It burnt up." Damn it.

"Albus?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the sky.

"I cannot cast a patronus." He says softly. Oh God.

"Cannot? Mentally or magically?" If he's having a dementor freak out, that's not going to help our chances.

"Magically." Moody answers for him. "Neither of us can. Few decades ago another form of protection was added to stop a patronus being formed in case an escapee managed to get a wand." His arm falls against his side. "Guess they never thought it'd be used against a visitor." He actually manages to laugh a bit at his joke. I look up again, they are definitely getting closer.

"They are confused. Just enough sentience to realise we are not their prisoners, but not enough to not attack when they grow bored." Albus explains. "Our time grows short." He turns to me.

"You want me to cast a patronus through a ward designed to prevent it?" I ask in disbelief. Idly I see that the ward is also black. I could tear the ward down, or overpower it, but then I still have to perform the spell, one that isn't as easy as others.

"Your happiest memory, you should be able to fill the rest in yourself." His eyes flick up to the sky briefly.

I know the practical way of casting a patronus, I've felt it cast hundreds of times, but it takes a powerful happy memory to power it. In essence, I know the theory. I don't have an overpowering happy memory though. Plenty of happy ones, but nothing that stands out. When Sirius was released from Azkaban?

"Expecto patronum." Shit. Not even a glow. I should've practised. I sit down to think as the dementors shift in the sky. Moody tries a couple of times, to no avail. When I got my wand. "Expecto patronum." When I met Tonks for the first time. "Expecto patronum." This is hopeless. Goodbye soul. "Albus." I say, standing up. He turns to me. "I think I'm suffering from depression. This upsets me." I look skywards to the ever nearing dementors. I hold my wand, my elder one, in front of my eyes. I've seen this wand cast the spell a lot, and I've seen people in their happiest, most elated moments of their lives.

I can feel the cold clawing at me as I grasp for an idea that doesn't end with our untimely deaths. Much closer and they will be 'too close' for Ministry approved standards, which means draining range. Think, Harry, think! Where's Hermione when I need her? Where are the prison guards? Why are we being assassinated? This is the third time somebody has tried to kill me in the past few weeks. Twice by, who appear to be, the Black Crows and then the Death Eaters first. Rabastan Lestrange could've actually succeeded if he wasn't trying to prolong it.

"That's it!" I jump to my feet. All it takes is a _powerful_ memory, not a _happy_ one. I have plenty of really bad ones. The cruciatus, the basilisk, the world cup, Voldemort in the forest, and everything associated with my Aunt and Uncle. So much hate and anger, all the raw emotion. "Expecto patronum maxima!"

A loud crack signals the anti-patronus ward breaking far too quickly. The light pours from my wand and the dementors screech as one, the otherworldly cry bites at my bones as the deep blue light coalesces into a wolf, Scar, larger than the boat. It's much darker than the other patroni I've seen. It runs through the sky in a rough circle, scattering the dementors easily. Andros the Invincible once cast giant patronus, the only person ever know to do so. Whilst mine isn't quite giant, it's a lot bigger than it ought to be. The boat is moving again, which causes my patronus to follow, bounding through the sky.

"Well done, Harry." Albus rests a hand on my shoulder.

"I think the wand resisted the use of happiness to fuel the spell."

"It did?" He sounds surprised. That never happened for him, he used his patronus to pass along message frequently in the war. "How did you overcome this?"

"You want me to say love, don't you?" I smirk a little bit. "Hate. Anger. They can be used for bad but also for good."

"So this..." Moody trails off.

"Is a patronus of negativity." It's quite impressive to look at really. A big blue wolf, my big blue wolf. The maxima modifier can be a tricky thing to pull off, and it isn't usually used with spells ruled by emotions, but I don't normally do things by the book. I think I've earned the right to be smug at the moment. If it hadn't worked, I'd have just had to collapse the ward to allow Moody and Albus to defend us. It didn't sink the boat, so it worked out in the end. Of course the size means absolutely nothing in terms of power, it's just impressive to look at. It seems to have shrunk slightly now anyway. So – Maxima will increase the size of the patronus.

This is probably high in the list of 'Ridiculous and/or dangerous things that happen to Harry Potter'.

"So, who are you going to shout at when we get inside?" I ask Moody as we get closer to the island, a faint light can be seen on the shore.

The grin Moody puts on is the one he tends to use before he hexes me.

* * *

 **A/N: A spell Harry has trouble with, not something that happens a lot.**

 **This chapter hints at Harry taking joy in irritating Moody in and out of lessons, but Moody gets back at him with bodily harm.**

 **I kind of like the idea of this trio and their dangerous hi-jinks, particularly Harry's poorly timed jokes, I think i will steer away from too many of them though.**

 **The next chapter (whenever that may be) will involve the inspection or Barty's cell, and Harry's views of Azkaban.**

 **Enjoy.**


	41. Chapter 41: Azkaban

**A/N: The Azkaban in this story isn't how it appears in canon, but this isn't canonfiction dot net, is it? No!**

* * *

Chapter 41: Azkaban

"How long do we let him go on for?" I ask Albus quietly.

"This looks to only be partway through." He murmurs back.

After almost being eaten by dementors, or our souls at least, the boat ride to Azkaban was uneventful. Once we made it ashore, Moody exploded. The small group of guards that were waiting, alongside the current Warden of Azkaban, in line and Moody quickly took to marching in front of them, shouting. Although I have the strangest feeling that this isn't the loudest he can go.

The island of Azkaban doesn't have much in the way of scenery besides the prison. The small pier that the boat pulled up against and the dead grass pretty much covers the sights for tourists. Twenty metres from the shore stand the looming doors of Azkaban. It would be generous to call it a path, but the line of tightly packed dirt leads from door to dock. The rain and sea water frequently takes off any layer that I would be able to pull any old information from, so until we get inside the prison, I can't know much about Barty's escape, although I highly doubt he used the front door.

"Did you think it was wise to pop that little aptitude test on me in the middle of a dementor-storm?" I ask him as Moody makes it to the part of his tirade where we actually landed on the beach.

"I often find that people perform best when under pressure." If Albus ever shrugged, I'm sure he would do so right now.

"You're losing the plot, Albus." I say, looking down to cover my smile.

"I'm afraid I never quite had a grasp upon it." I think it's a testament to his stalwart mind that he is cracking jokes on the shore of Azkaban.

"The ley lines are kind of messed up beneath us." I let him know. "Kind of shaking." He looks over to me with a raised eyebrow, running his hand over his beard casually. "Stable, but I think it's the prison having an effect on it." A giant monolith of solid mithril might be disruptive? I don't know how these things work completely. Excluding the warbling, these ley lines look the same as any other. I've always wondered if the hues correspond to different kinds of magic. "Do you think you could drop me in the Leaky Cauldron when we're done here? I'll floo back on Friday morning." I know that this is being overly-optimistic about not being put into a coma by dementors in a few minutes time, but I can hold onto this in case I need some motivation to go feeling around in a prison.

"Before breakfast on Friday, or you will be in detention. Again." He peers at me over his glasses. He doesn't look happy, even with the smile. The sooner we get of this damned rock, the better.

"Could you send a patronus to Hedwig so she doesn't wait up? I don't think I can replicate mine again." I suspect the strange circumstances in which I bonded with the Elder Wand had some effect on the spell, and maybe will do so more in future. I've not used it a whole lot since Albus handed it to me in St. Mungos, specifically favouring my holly wand because I don't trust myself with the power residing in the Elder Wand. No other user was already the master of another Deathly Hallow when they won the wand either, maybe I'm going to have to work out the kinks. The Peverell Brother's linked the items in a way that I have yet to decipher.

"Bloody amateurs." Moody stomps back over to us after. The other men quickly turn on their heels and run back up to the gateway. "There's no way the Crows have anything else planned inside the prison. It's secured more than the journey ever could be." We follow the guards to the prison.

"You know, Albus, I was thinking of _actually_ becoming a wand maker." I say conversationally.

"Truly?" He seems surprised. Although if it's due to my superb timing about bringing the topic up, or the topic itself, I'm not sure.

"Find some materials, get my hands on some wand maker's tools – I think it could be a fascinating hobby." Ollivander is too weird and possibly more crafty than he lets on, I doubt he would fall for it and allow me to touch his tools. "Maybe a dementor bone, or something."

If he had anything to say to that, it is drowned out by a groaning cacophony as my bare foot touches the icy metal of Azkaban. Much like Hogwarts, the tower is alive. All the parts talk to each other but, where Hogwarts sings, Azkaban screams. Construction of this part finally finished in 1550 on the first of August, no other materials were ferried through this part of the prison, which probably means that it was the last piece to be finished. Ekrizdis, the ruler of the tower before the ministerial acquisition, used stone golems to move the ultra-dense mithril blocks for construction. Once the bricks were in place, at least in this section of the floor, Ekrizdis merged the individuals into one seamless plane. Seamless for anybody that isn't able to rifle through the floor's history, of course.

"Potter." I look up at confused faces ahead as Moody grabs my attention. The human guards, alongside Albus and Moody, made it a few metres before realising I'd stopped. Damn it. Need to come up with something fast.

"Sorry." I hurry to catch up with them, trying my best to ignore the fact that I'm walking along the path that Sirius was forced to walk in 1981. "Didn't think the floor would be so cold." I wink at Albus as the guards look down at my bare feet. Suckers.

"If the three of you could wait here." The warden steps towards us. "Your escort will be taking you further during their inspection of the inner cells." And with a nod, he leads the other guards. The only time they seem to leave their posts is for new arrivals. I've read that the dementors distribute the nutrients potions to the prisoners, to further depress them. No solid food, so if you are sentenced here for life imprisonment, you will never eat real food again.

The ceiling here is around 5 metres high, the same dark metallic colour as everywhere else, and completely flat. This area is a crossroad of corridors. One way leads to the outside of the prison, the two going left and right after entering are closed off with bars and gates, the guards have gone left into a side room. Straight ahead is a much meaner looking set of gates, presumably going further 'inside' Azkaban increases the security, dementor density, authorisation requirement, and prisoner 'meanness' levels.

"Anything?" Moody asks me whilst his eye spins rapidly. Can he even see through mithril?

"This place is amazing." He glares at me. "Sorry. Uh, It's cold and smells salty." Description of Azkaban, or Moody? Who can really say? "It'll get better once we go deeper." I say, tapping my ear again. They both get the message. Moody look like he's bitten into one of Albus' lemon drops.

The left-hand gate slides open with a creaking rattle admitting a stocky guard to pass through with his horse patronus. The man's face sags, possibly from spending too much time here, and it makes him look a lot older than his forty three years should. Ex-Auror Jessie Jensen, American. Nine years of uninterrupted service in Azkaban.

"Follow." He says, not stopping as he walks past us to the centre gate, turning to face us after he reaches it. "No unauthorised wands beyond this point." He _might_ be looking at Moody, but his eyes don't really appear to be focused.

"Potter, You're not allowed to carry a wand here." Moody explains to me.

" _What?_ " Not allowed a wand? What nonsense it this? "They want me to wilfully disarm in one of the most dangerous places on the planet?" The silence of my companions mean 'Yes, they do'. This seems like a great way to get people killed. Or assassinated. "Fine." I try not to sound like a petulant child, but I'm not happy with this, not after what happened on the boat. Like most other guests passing through this gate, I retrieve my wand and hand it over. If I didn't have the untraceable elder wand stored … somewhere, I would be making much more of a fuss.

"Very well." Jensen turns around and takes a step towards the gate, which dutifully slides open.

"If anything happens whilst we are here, I will personally raze this bloody tower to the ground." I mutter under my breath.

"No more Crows here, Potter." Moody assures me.

"You've brought in 12 yourself." I counter. "So I wouldn't say that there are _none_." But the chances another attempt on our lives, by humans, is pretty low.

As we continue through the fortress, I gain small glimpses of Ekrizdis throughout. Tall, usually hooded, with white hair, but a surprisingly youthful face. His eyes look grey, but then all whispers do, and he is usually shouting instructions at his stone golems. They were his mindless servants, they built the tower and dragged the corpses of those he lured here after he was done with them. I've yet to cross a point where he's actually killed one, or done anything else to one, but their screams have imprinted so deeply into the mithril that I can hear them over the current inmates.

"Excuse me, How many layers deep are we going?" I ask Jensen after the third set of gates. It's interesting that these inter-layer ones are made of mithril. Where did Ekrizdis even get all of this?

"All of them. Seven." Jensen replies, not turning to look at me.

Of course it's seven.

* * *

As we venture deeper into the prison, I notice that, along with the ever decreasing temperature, that my companions are slowly becoming more withdrawn. Heavy frowns and less enthusiastic walking. The most troubling part is that I'm almost buzzing with energy, every step tells a thousand stories, everything from the construction, to Ekrizdis' golems dragging mutilated corpses, and the high security inmates being led to their fates. Like a train wreck, I can't stop myself from looking. I'm very close to actually dragging my feet to not interrupt the flow by lifting my feet for walking. Why don't I feel the dementors? I've probably gone insane years ago, but most of the people this deep into the tower are insane too, and their screaming definitely indicates that they are still feeling the effects of their guardians.

"Last gate. Don't look down unless you have a strong stomach." Jensen taps his wand against the lock of the final gate and waits for a few seconds for the metal to slide with a loud screeching. I guess nobody gets paid enough to oil this thing.

The innermost section of Azkaban is the smallest, and, judging by the almost water-thick feeling of the wards, it's the most secure. The walkway surrounding the sheer drop is around six feet wide and only a single, thin handrail running around the entire triangular space assists in not being drawn in. The cells here appear to have caged doors, made of the same dark mithril, perhaps to further un-hinder the dementor's aura unto the prisoner. A solid door would be too kind, wouldn't it?

I tentatively rest my hands on the flimsy looking rail to ensure it will hold my weight. It will, mithril is incredibly strong. I peek over the edge and into, what I can only describe as, a bottomless abyss. A swarm, a flock, an _army_ of dementors gently gliding below. If there is a bottom, it is impossible to make out through them. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them within the pit, slowly thinning out as the mass reaches closer to the sky. The very heart of the prison. Each dementor holds a dark grey aura of magic around them, which gives the entire pit a very bleak look to my magical eyes – What lies beneath?

A loud – louder than the rest – shriek catches my attention. Moody is a few cells away from the door.

" _Mad_ -Eye, you are looking almost as mad as when I last saw you!" Another shriek, but it's _laughter_. Insane cackling. I step away from the edge of the abyss and slowly walk towards the cell, knowing, through my feet, that there is only one person this could be.

The woman is clinging to the bars, as gaunt as a skeleton and covered in filth. Her black hair resembles a bird's nest, and the odd patches of grey hair stick out even more. Sirius' grey faded fairly quickly after he left here. She quickly loses interest in Moody and stares at me.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

I've seen her grow up in Grimmauld Place. When she took her first steps under the watchful eye of Irma Black, her grandmother. When she was punished for not, as her mother would say, 'adhering to etiquette befitting a Black' at the dinner table. Repeatedly. The stern talking to she'd been given before she left for her first day of Hogwarts, and from there I'm more familiar with her. Her first few years mostly consisted of her keeping her head down, watching people. I don't know what she was like in her own common room, but she was always a bit odd outside. She reminds me of Luna. In her later years, she'd become a witch to respect as much as fear. Devilishly beautiful and dangerous with, or without, a wand. The corrupting influence of Voldemort had Bellatrix firmly in it's grasp by her seventh year.

I feel sorry for her. Anything that was once Bellatrix Black seems to be long dead. She is drawn to power, and Voldemort was almost unmatched. Addicted to his power, I think she couldn't help become one of his most devout followers. Mental illness? Was there a cause? Aura reading? Some kind of extra sensory ability?

"And you have brought me James!" She bares her filthy teeth with a grin. "How's that filthy mudblood pet of yours?"

"Dead, oddly enough. James too." Her smile vanishes and she squints at me.

"Who are _you_?" She demands. I probably shouldn't be talking to her. Her arm lashes out through the bars, flailing as she attempts to claw at my face, but falling an inch for of my nose. I spot Albus taking a few steps towards me from the corner of my eye.

"Perhaps if we press on?" He suggests. Moody mutters something and Jensen guides his patronus onwards.

Deciding to mess with Bellatrix, I hiss 'Harry Potter' in parseltongue, High Parsel in fact. She scrambles back into her cell, eyes wide.

" _...Potter...Potter...Potter...ter...ter..."_ My words bounce off the mithril and echo around the prison. My companions don't turn back, so they don't hear anything, mainly because of the screams and the fact it's not in a language they could ever hope to understand, but they also don't feel in induced fear because of the dementors already pressing on that front. The only one disturbed was Bellatrix, and now the dementors floating nearby are looking at me.

I'll just pretend that didn't happen. I walk swiftly to catch up with the others, leaving a laughing Lestrange behind.

"Up ahead." Moody says as we reach the first corner.

"You have until I circle back." Jensen tells us, wandering away. "One patronus is certified." Albus quickly fills the void whilst Moody pulls the unlocked cell door open. The three of us squeeze inside.

"Well?" Moody grumps.

"Scrying ward doesn't reach this far in." I explain. "Give us some privacy." I say, sliding my hands along the walls as I pace around the tiny cell. Moody casts the charms and Albus' phoenix patronus stands guard outside. What does he thinks of when he casts his patronus?

"I couldn't say earlier, but Mr and Mrs Crouch came to visit their son when she became ill. Senior put Junior under the imperius curse, a quick switch of clothes and a dose of polyjuice later and Barty Crouch Jr walked out of Azkaban in plain sight looking like his mother." I explain to them. "I don't know why it took so long for his to resurface at your place, Moody, but Barty Crouch senior has broken a lot of laws. Unforgivable curse, attempting, and succeeding, in breaking a criminal out of Azkaban, aiding a criminal – You know the spiel. Why name your son the same? Confuses things when I try and talk about them." I shake my head. I don't know how to refer to them. "Dementors, supposedly, can't tell the difference between people, so they just saw a soul to feed from in the cell and nobody knew."

I run my fingers over the ancient shackle mounts as they digest what I've told them.

"His arrest will not be problem-free, but it is necessary." Albus frowns deeply. "It will be for the best if it is to happen before the Tri-Wizard tournament begins, as Barty being arrested during the game will cause an even larger uproar." I rhythmically pat my thighs as Albus appears deep in thought.

"What do they keep on the layers below us? Deeper into the pit? Does anybody even want to go that deep down to put prisoners there?" I ask Moody rapidly.

"Last I heard, nobody would dare go more than two floors lower. Only the floor beneath this one is used. Why?" He asks suspiciously.

"I can't just ask a question?" I question questioningly as I walk back out of the cell and lean against the rail. I can see at least four floors lower than ours across the pit, but they don't all have barred doors. "But, hypothetically, if I wanted to go down and take a look, could I?"

"Anything lower than sea-level is beyond Ministerial jurisdiction." Jensen has returned. "Down the stairs takes us to the remaining floor we are using." He points to a cut-out in the wall a few metres down. "Below that, I can't go with you, but if you're eager to get yourself killed, feel free to. If you die down there, it's not my fault." Albus doesn't look happy with the blunt response.

"OK." I nod. "If you don't mind hanging around once I'm down there..."

"You'll have one hour, and then I will assume you are not coming back up." Jensen doesn't seem to care in the slightest. Although it seems more the lack of ability to do so any more. "You two, get your patronus' ready. I'd prefer to have three here. And Potter." He retrieves my wand and holds it out to me. "One hour."

* * *

Most of the cells and room are completely empty, just the screaming history left of them. Some still hold the occasional operating table, still stained with blood, and chains are still attached to the walls. The original investigators of the island made it two floors down before turning back, possibly due to the dementors' influence. As with the other cells in the prison, any remaining bodies were simply cast over the edge, into the heart of Azkaban.

Oddly enough, the wards don't extend down here, not the Ministry ones anyway. That seems like a big security risk.

* * *

The last few appearances of Ekrizdis involve the golems being instructed with loud commands. He looks like he knows he is going to die, he knows that the island will be de-mystified – So he's packing up.

As I run through the abandoned halls, now 3 floors lower than the dementor surface, I follow the golem march to a large mithril door. Three metres high, double doors. Perhaps six metres wide. I point my holly wand around the arch, as the only light down here is from my lumos. I lean hard on the door and it slowly grinds open a crack large enough for me to pass through.

" _Lumos Maxima."_ The light flows into the room. "Holy..."

It's like a terracotta army. Rows upon rows of the stone golems. Their hulking forms looking much more like suits of troll-sized armour than my lumbering minions I tend to go for. They are squatting down, tucking themselves in to conserve space. At the far end of the room there are a few tables stacked up. Should I steal one? No. That would probably be a terrible idea.

I tiptoe back out of the room and use my wand to pull the door shut.

* * *

According to the handwritten books, A wizard's soul is a passageway to an astral plane, a 'realm' as Ekrizdis called it, that consists entirely of magic. Through our connection, we pull the magic through to cast our spells and fuel our magic. Gellert Grindelwald had a similar theory, but he sought to try and expand his own passageway to gain more power, sometimes attempting to pull the souls from other wizards to increase his potential. He could actually do it too, push and pull souls from peoples bodies, very close to creating a horcrux or soul container by mistake. I think that severing the connection whilst the soul is outside of the body would probably do it.

Anyway, Ekrizdis believed in another route to power – Finding the magical realm himself. I conjured some gloves so that I could read quick extracts of his volumes without straining my ability. He became obsessed with finding this place, researching and experimenting the way that our own souls connect with magic, and the differences with that of muggles too. He, too, learnt to manipulate souls, even trying to bestow magic from a wizard into a muggle. It didn't work, but that didn't stop him from cutting people up.

I shrink the books and wrap the tiny replicas in my invisibility cloak, stuffing if back into my pocket. They don't have anything tracking them, but I don't want to risk it.

* * *

After running around for twenty minutes, I reach the bottom floor. The lowest point dug out in Azkaban. The triangular room, the size of the abyss, has a mithril floor. I follow the one-way whisper of Ekrizdis. He never went back from here, these were his last steps.

The space has no roof, just a layer of dementors menacingly floating above me. In the centre of the room is a grand podium make of rough, uncut, grey stone. Atop it sits an archway of finely carved stone. Intricate runes litter the surface. Ekrizdis built this archway, and it seems that his last steps took him through it.

I step up onto the dais and pace around the arch. It holds a pale watery-smoke, gently swaying to a non-existent breeze, a curtain. Voices. Whispering words just beyond what I can hear. I reach my hand out and lay it against the cold stone.

A portal.

He did it.

A doorway to another realm. When he finished carving the runes, the archway had sparked up and the dementors had came through. That was almost sixteen months before he stepped through. For a while, the dementors had passed back and forth from here to the other side, wherever that may be. Ekrizdis saw the effects of these demons and decided to enslave them. The next charms he put on, when coupled with the rune just barely on this side of reality, made a magical toll-gate.

The price of admission? One human soul.

Whereas Gellert could smoothly manipluate the human soul, Ekrizdis made a mess of them according to his books. The dementors, however, pulled them cleanly out of the host, ripe for further experimentation. They also, in Ekrizdis' opinion, would be perfect fuel for his journey into the realm of magic. Perhaps he thought they would disguise his soul so he could safely pass through. Whatever his reasoning, he never came back through, but the dementors still patiently wait until they are selected for kissing a prisoner so that they may pass back through.

But the most disturbing part, excluding the fact that the souls are stored inside the podium like some sort of battery, is the colour of the magic that reside inside the arch. Purple.

The exact shade of purple found on my cloak and wand. Did the Peverell brothers also work with this kind of magic? Did they go to the other side and learn something that made their objects so different, so much more powerful than they should be?

Where the hell does this doorway lead to?

* * *

"Albus, I think I'm ready to go back now." I say as I arrive back, handing my wand over to Jensen.

"Harry, Are you OK?" Albus grasps my shoulder.

"Fine, fine. I didn't go very far."

The world just got a lot bigger, or perhaps smaller?

* * *

 **A/N: World building! Woop! A nice long chapter with lots going on, hopefully it makes sense, because i'm really happy with this one.**

 **I'd love to know what you think about this one.**

 **Enjoy!**


	42. Chapter 42: A day off

**A/N: I was thinking of using a Twitter or something, is that a thing people do here?**

* * *

Chapter 42: A day off

Every fibre of my being screams in protest as the sudden blinding light hits my eyes, the sensation is like having daggers plunged through them. My muscles ache, my fingers and toes try to curl back on themselves. The entire sensation is unpleasant, and usually called 'waking up'.

"Is that your wand against my butt, or are you just pleased to see me?"

"We'll go for the latter." I mumble, breaking off into a yawn as I crinkle my eyes open. Tonks shifts in my grip to face me, the sheet tells me that at some point in the night, I'd wrapped my arms around her and not let go. "Why're you orange?" And it's not just sleep-delirium, her skin is a bright orange colour. It looks good.

"You always said I wasn't adventurous enough, so I thought I'd give this a go." Did I say that? Sounds like me. She leans forwards to kiss me, which reminds me just how much I've missed her. Life can be cruel. "By the way, where are your clothes?" My clothes?

"Oh, I burned them last night." I trail my fingers along her orange arm. "Azkaban kind of sticks to clothes. I managed to persuade Albus to let me skip school today, and shouldn't you be at work? It's half nine." I frown.

"Nah, Just paperwork today. I can do it all here." Her pupils turn a dark blue. She can't always tell me what she does at work, because if she gets asked about it, and they use veritaserum, she can't truthfully say she hasn't spoken to any external parties. It makes sense. Tonks flicks my forehead. "No internal-monologuing in bed."

"Sorry." I grin sheepishly. "Erm, you can change little bits of your skin right? Like that time when you did to give yourself tan lines?" I'm not sure where she got the idea from, but I was more than happy to inspect her handiwork.

"Yeah?" She nods slowly.

"And you've said that tattoos don't persist when you shift, so could you create the patterns yourself? I don't know how much detail you can-" She silences me with a kiss, right before rolling out of bed, on to the floor, swearing, then climbs back to her feet and runs out of the room. I let my head fall back onto the pillow. I'm not quite sure how I never came up with this idea before. "Is it working?" I call out.

"Mmm." Comes the in depth response. I stiffly climb out of bed and retrieve a clean set of boxers from the cupboard. I really wouldn't want that Azkaban feel lingering on me, even though it's stuck on my glasses.

I walk into the living room and see that Tonks has changed back to her normal complexion and appears to be in deep concentration whilst standing between to mirrors. The skin along the left side of her torso is slowly shifting through a wide array of blotchy colours as she slowly works them into shapes. It's mesmerising to watch, but, then again, anything involving Tonks and low amounts of clothing catches my attention.

"No Hedwig?" She asks, not turning to face me whilst I reposition my armchair to watch her.

"I think she's fallen in love with the castle. It's different being able to walk around it instead of flying, apparently." The shapes on Tonks slowly begin to form into a chain of colourful flowers down her side, starting just below her armpit and extending slightly below her hip.

"This is the best idea you've ever had!" She spins on the spot, showing off her new 'tattoo'.

"Well, if you ever get bored of all the paperwork involved with being an Auror, you can always become a tattoo artist." She grins at the compliment and turns back to the mirror. "Did you make it yourself, or see it somewhere?"

"Just made it up as I was going along." She shrugs.

"I'm sure Dobby will be happy to make breakfast for more than just you for once. You keep uh … tattooing yourself."

* * *

"I think you'd have made a good healer." I point at Tonks with my spoon as we both sit cross legged on the kitchen table.

"Ya think?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Healers have to learn what bodies are like on the inside, which takes more time to research than learning the charms they need. You could grow a tail and know exactly how every muscle works, right?" She nods. "So you have some innate magical knowledge of biology. So a couple of basic charms, and you'd know exactly what needs to be fixed. That's half the job right there." I was thinking a cooked breakfast, but Dobby had somehow managed to procure a box of cornflakes. I hope he didn't steal them.

"Never really thought about it like that." Tonks taps her spoon against her lips thoughtfully. "I could try for my Medi-Auror certification in a few years." She says. "They usually want you to be on for a few years before they offer it." She shrugs her tattooed shoulders. "So, how's ol' Mad Eye?"

"He was grumpy before we left for Azkaban..." She snorts. "...and his mood, oddly, didn't improve when we were swarmed by dementors. Another failed assassination attempt on the Old Man Adventure Squad."

"The what?" She wrinkles her nose up, smiling.

"It's my 'gang'." I say seriously. "Albus, Moody, and me. I'm thinking we need a fourth member, but I don't know any other old people that would be interested. Maybe Flitwick would join."

"Don't you get worried? With people trying to kill you? Maybe I could get bodyguard duty to look after you." She smiles suggestively.

"Somehow I don't think that's going to happen." I laugh. "Although after nearly getting my soul eaten last night, maybe the Ministry will realise that I'm being targeted?" I ponder that for a moment. "Nah, not likely."

"Too right." She grins. "Soooo, what was it like?" She's almost bouncing on the table. "You should see people when they come back from dropping somebody of in Azkaban, they look like they've not slept in about a week."

"It's horrible." I grimace. "Centuries of screaming and fear, cold as ice and packed with dementors." Tonks listens with rapt attention. "The whole tower is made from big mithril bricks, which were carried by these giant stone sentinels. The original gates are made of the same stuff, but the Ministry has added these enchanted iron ones all over the place, for security, I suppose. There's 7 layers, slowly getting closer to the heart of the prison, which is a dementor _hive_. Hundreds, thousands – I don't even know." I shake my head. "It's pretty gross to look down into the pit, but there are cells going down below it."

"They keep people in there?!" She looks shocked.

"Well, not in the lower ones, if you go a couple of floors down, it gets too much for people to handle, so the Ministry don't even bother going down there, warding anything down there, or enforcing laws down there."

"Merlin..."

"So, obviously, I had to go down to investigate."

"You're mental." She dead pans, which makes me laugh.

"I try my best." I say, smirking. "There wasn't any light down there, so I had to run around with my wand out, which they handily gave back to me. The guy with us said I had 1 hour, or they'd leave without me."

"What was down there?" She asks, putting her bowl in the sink.

"The usual, portal to the underworld, or something, the golems that built the place and some old books." I point at the bundle of books wrapped in my cloak sitting on the coffee table. "Don't tell anyone, but I nicked 'em."

"You..." She shakes her head. "Never mind, what are they?"

"Just journals from the guy that built the place, I'll look through them whilst you're doing your paperwork." She looks grumpy now.

"I hate you."

* * *

"Tonks, I need a snake." I say abruptly, pulling my gloves off after carefully setting the crumbling book down.

"Huh?" Tonks looks up from the kitchen table. For the past hour, she's been slumped over the latest version of her report, hopefully she doesn't screw this one up. There's already a couple of drafts crumpled into balls lying around the flat.

"I'm squandering a rare ability that has apparently only been seen a handful of times in the past couple of centuries of British history." I explain, heading into the bedroom. Why did I burn my jacket? "A parselmouth without a snake, doesn't really seem right, does it?"

"Are you allowed a snake in Hogwarts?" She calls back.

"There's a rule about parselmouthes being allowed a pet snake, nobody has ever changed it." I reason.

"And the rule about one pet per student?" She counters.

"...Are circumvented because she is my familiar." I flick my wand at my belt and it whips forward, winding through the loops on my trousers and fastening itself snugly. I should try and recreate the automatic-clothing charms that St. Mungos use.

"What kind of snake?" Tonks asks, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed.

"I was thinking something venomous?" She rolls her eyes. "Speaking of venomous, though, Has the Ministry set a date for when you are to be stationed in Hogwarts?"

"They keep messing people about with schedules, but it's looking like late October now. Twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth."

"Still over a month away." I sigh dramatically.

"Can you make it that long without me?" She smirks, sauntering over to me.

"Providing nobody kills me, I _might_ be able to cope." I say as Tonks snakes her arms around my neck. Yes, a good snog before shopping will improve the experience.

Hell, a good snog before _anything_ will improve it.

* * *

I managed to talk Tonks out of the flat, the report would still be there when we get home. I know it's a bit selfish of me to pull her away from her work, but I enjoy being selfish sometimes.

"Why didn't you take one of the builders?" She asks, the door locks behind us as we leave.

"Not sure if they'd shrink correctly, or if they function afterwards."

"Could you fix them? Or would you need schematics?" She zips up her boots having apparently forgotten to. I swear she'd lose her wand if it wasn't strapped to the inside of her arm all day. It's oddly endearing.

"Do you think I'm some sort of master enchanter?"

"I thought you were supposed to be good at everything?" She sniffs.

"I wish. I'm just a quick learner." I shrug.

"So you _couldn't_ fix them?"

"Oh, I'm sure I could, but what use would I have for them?" I ask, Tonks ponders the question.

"A hat rack?" She suggest with an exaggerated shrug.

"That's a good idea, actually. Moody has a hat rack, just a boring metal one, that comes to life if he's ever attacked in his office apparently." Tonks swears.

"The one with the gargoyle head on the top?" I nod. "He's still got it? Dammit. I thought I destroyed it. It also attacks people for no reason if he wants it to." She scowls as we enter the main street, main alley.

"I feel safer knowing that you can protect the public from hat racks." I tease.

"Lucky the bloody thing doesn't have a bigger base, else I'd probably trip over it." She grumbles, shaking her head to return the hair to long brown curls.

"I think Albus is going to get a couple of letters tonight." I look around at a few of the people in the alley that have spotted me, the looks of surprise aren't normal reactions.

"Hmm?"

"Supposed to be in Hogwarts, any other student would cause the same problem."

"Maybe you'll get some leeway, because you're best buds?" Tonks offers, biting her lip as she tries not to laugh at me.

"I kind of spun it that I was upset and wanted to rest, which probably didn't include shopping in his mind." I scratch my chin. "I might get detention, but it's not entirely a school related matter."

"For being the Golden Boy, you sure do get detention a lot." The Golden Boy. Another of my nicknames. I swear the Daily Prophet has somebody to come up with these … and why does that sound so plausible?

"It's easier to just volunteer for them before I do something, I can get away with most of my nightly exploration providing I don't accidentally say that I'm doing it in front of Albus."

"Still going into the forest a lot?" She asks as we pass Ollivander's.

"Yeah. I see Luna there sometimes." I shake my head with a sigh.

"The Quibbler girl?" She asks, I nod.

"I'm afraid her curiosity will get her hurt one day."

"And you?"

"If anything wants to fight a giant wolf that can turn into a wizard, they're _more_ _than welcome_ to try." I grin, holding the door open to Magical Menagerie for Tonks.

"Careful, you might get cocky. You already have to contain that giant ego in your head." She jokes.

"I think Julius Caesar once said 'It's only hubris if it fails'." The bell above the door twinkles again as the swings shut. This shop always has that weird 'pet shop' smell to it. A mixture of the animals and the various food smells all mixed into one, thick scent.

"I'm going to look at the puppies, you go and talk to your minions." Tonks instructs, hasitly making her way to the walk-in puppy enclosure. I didn't think dogs were so popular amongst magicals. You certainly can't have them in Hogwarts. I venture deeper into the shop. I've never card much for dogs, maybe Marge's put me off the species.

" _Master!_ " The snakes exclaim in one, communal hiss as I approach them. Can't I just buy them all and keep them in the Chamber of Secrets? They'd probably escape and be killed. Now, how to pick the right one. They have to look cool, but also be small enough to not be cumbersome if I carry them.

" _Divide into groups. Venomous and non-venomous_." I instruct them. The case that they are kept in is larger than last time I was here. I pop the latch open to get a better look at them. They slither to try and complete my request. Various colours and sizes, one incredibly long python of some sort too. Odd that the magical breeds of snake are kept in this case too. I reach into the case to inspect them better. " _Behave._ " I command. In an instant, they all become more subdued as I move their heads around to get a better look.

"Can I help you, sir?" Shit.

"I'm looking to buy a snake." I look over my shoulder. A woman, around 40, with dark hair and an apron. She looks a bit concerned. "As a pet, not food." I add, turning back to the snakes. This one has horns. " _Climb._ " The horned snake dutifully wraps itself around my wrist. I turn to the, very shocked looking, woman. Her eyes make the customary flick up to my forehead before she looks down at the snake. It's about as long as my arm when it's uncoiled. Thick looking pale-brown scales with small areas of darker brown clusters around it's body. The head is wide and flat with a small horn, about one centimetre total, protruding above each slitted eye.

"I see you've got your eye on our Desert Horned Viper." She smiles, walking past me to close the case.

" _Farewell, minions._ " I hiss. The woman, Heather, shudders a bit. I suppose not talking to them too much is for the best, I wouldn't want to hear them talk about their Snake-Religion again. I'm glad there aren't loads of Parselmouthes, else there would _definitely_ be the crazy ones that bought into it all … Maybe that's why Voldemort went mad?

"Does Professor Dumbledore know you're here?" She asks, putting her hands on her hips.

"Yes, Ma'am. Well, not right on this shop, but he knows I'm not at Hogwarts." I give her my best innocent smile. I feel like having a snake wrapped around my arm doesn't help to convince her.

At all.

* * *

"Did you pick her because she has horns?" Tonks asks after we get home. She's kneeling to be eye-level with the coffee table.

"Of course not!" I say indignantly. "She's also venomous." I affectionately stroke Nysa's head. "She's so beautiful too, aren't you, Nysa?" She's currently lain out receiving the petting.

" _Yessss_." She replies happily.

"Did you pick the name?" Tonks asks, gingerly poking Nysa's head with one finger.

"Yeah. Did I ever tell you that Salazar named his basilisk Nysa? Figured that somebody needed to carry on the legacy." I split my attention between the real snake and the tattoo that Tonks is busy creating on her wrist. "How long before you get bored of making tattoos?"

"Never!" She smiles brightly. "I was always pants at drawing, I'm all thumbs, but this is much easier. If you've got any more great ideas, let me know. I might just keep you around."

"Try some horns? I don't know." I yawn at the end of the sentence. "You've still got work to do, remember? I'm going to sleep off Azkaban whilst you do it."

"Sleep? But it's only..."

"Three o'clock." I supply.

"Exactly!" She exclaims.

"There's nothing wrong with sleeping in the middle of the day." I say. "And it gives you time to write that thing. We'll get something to eat when you're done?"

"Oh, fine. But I want the biggest pizza you can find." She challenges.

"I'll see what I can do." I smile, kissing her forehead before going into the bedroom.

* * *

 **A/N: A** **naked Harry Potter, I'm sure Tonks enjoyed her first viewing.**

 **I know I apologise for slacking with my update speed a lot, but hey – It's 7.7.2016 now, which is a full year to the day since I posted the first chapter! (I** _ **may**_ **have held this chapter back a few days, it's the fourth of July (Happy Independence Day to you Americans ) as I write this, but it's here now!)**

 **I've been thinking of having Harry use a different name for Tonks than just 'Tonks'. Part of me think it suits the laid back relationship they have, but maybe it's odd for him to call his girlfriend by her surname, even if she doesn't like her first name. I'm not decided - Suggestions?**

 **Enjoy!**


	43. Chapter 43: On dementors

**A/N: Chapter names are hard**

* * *

Chapter 43: On dementors

"Hogwarts' Headmaster's Office." I mutter before stepping into the floo-fire.

Dobby had graciously brought my uniform to my flat to save me changing later, he really is fantastic. I should get him a tiny house-elf sized bike or something, I'm sure he'd love it.

"Ah, Harry, just in time." Albus is standing by his desk.

"For what?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. I didn't go for a run this morning, so I'm not entirely awake. Ten to seven.

"I was just about to walk down to the Great Hall, perhaps you could accompany me?" His polite way of saying - " _I'm going down to eat breakfast, come on_."

"Sure, sure. I see Moody wasn't happy when you got back." I gesture to the floor where they'd been standing yesterday.

"Alastor, like many others, dislike the effects of dementors." Albus says as we walk down his stairs, the gargoyle twists out of the way for him.

"Oh, I got a new friend." I say, suddenly remembering the snake coiled around my forearm. I hold my hand for Albus to see. I don't have my robe on, and my sleeves are rolled up… He probably noticed her already. " _This is Albus._ " I explain to Nysa. " _Remember not to bite him. Or anyone else."_

" _Yes, Master._ " Was that sarcasm? She's asleep again. I managed to find the laziest snake in existence. Is it too late for a refund.

"Delightful." Albus' eyes twinkle. "I trust you can keep..."

"Nysa." I supply the name.

"...Nysa under control?"

"She won't bite anybody that doesn't bite her first." I drop my arm back to my side. Nysa's head sits against the outside of my hand. Maybe this will become the latest fashion? The plausibility of it worries me. I wouldn't put it past people to do it because I do… Well they never copy what Albus wears, so maybe they won't care?

"Excellent." He smiles as we continue our trek, he bids the paintings a good morning as we pass them. "I suppose you won't tell me exactly what you saw on Wednesday night?"

"Dementors, the things that built the place." I shrug. "I'll probably tell you everything eventually." He smiles knowingly. "Any plans on how to deal with Senior?" I ask quietly. A potentially delicate subject.

"The manner in which the evidence was uncovered, by means of your abilities, makes the process somewhat difficult. I cannot always challenge them to force Veritaserum onto an outwardly upstanding citizen." He sighs.

"Try not to leave it too long, he _did_ use an unforgivable, multiple times. It's only terrifically illegal." As walk down the last flight of stairs approaching the Great Hall, I hold up Nysa again. "Do you think this will catch on in the world of fashion?" To his credit, he actually seems to consider it.

"Harry, I once knew a wizard who wore an extra pair of shoes dangling from his knees, I dare say I will _never_ understand fashion." He replies sagely as we turn into the room. The hall hushes and turns to look at us, Albus continues to walk towards his seat, I stand still like a plonker. Play it cool. I walk over to the Slytherin table and sit on Draco's right.

"Morning, Draco."

"Potter." He says lazily, reading the letter in his hands. From his mother, judging by the flowery writing.

"Is there a reason why I'm being stared at?" I ask lowly. He hands me the front page of the Daily Prophet without saying anything. Shit. "Harry Potter, blah blah blah, Azkaban, Dementor attack. 'Later spotted in the company of a buxom brunette in Magical Menagerie'?" Tonks'll absolutely _love_ that. " _Nysa_." I scold the snake as she scares Draco by snapping at his food. " _What did I say about snatching?_ "

" _Sorry, Master_." Her tongue flits out onto my hand.

"Sorry, Draco – She's still getting used to not being locked in a display case." I glance up to the other students briefly. I can't say I'm _completely_ without blame when it comes to drawing attention to myself. It's a shame Nysa doesn't like coiling around the wand holster on my right arm, else I could look super cool by casting with a snake wrapped around my wrist.

"I don't see you for one day and you come back with a snake." Much to my surprise, he doesn't angry, just curious and wary of Nysa.

"Yeah, I came to the realisation that I'd never really done much with parseltongue. A shame to let it go to waste."

"And the… dementors?" He looks along the table for eavesdroppers. "That happened?"

"Yes." I nod, watching Moody as he leans down to Albus' ear to talk to him. "It wasn't entirely pleasant." What are they talking about?

"I heard a rumour this morning that it was _you_ that cast the patronus." Draco continues. "The papers only said they were dealt with, but not who did so."

"And you believe the rumours?" I look back to him after Moody retakes his seat again.

"You almost killed my father-"

"Out the kindness of my heart."

"-so I think you can cast a patronus." He ignores my input.

"I might just have done so, pressure does strange things to magic." I say ambiguously.

"So you couldn't do it again?" He looks down at his letter again as somebody walks behind us, as if to make it look like we weren't talking or something. How can I explain that I can cast the spell through the Elder Wand because of some bizarre bond I have with it? I could probably replicate the feeling of the spell itself with my holly wand.

"Probably." I shrug.

"Can you teach me?" Teach him?

"Draco, I don't even know how I did it myself." I drum my fingers on the table whilst mentally reviewing the theory. "Why do you want me to?" He looks confused for a split second.

"Oh, I didn't give you the rest of the paper, did I?" He drags the inner pages from beneath his plate. "Yesterday the Ministry announced that they would be posting extra security here during the tournament."

"Right, Tonks said the Auror department would be out in force." I nod.

"No, they mean dementors." He jumps. Probably because I just slammed my hand down onto the table. I snatch the paper and devour the follow up article. Why didn't I read the paper yesterday?

"How could they do this? After I was almost killed too? It's sick, disgusting that they would even consider it." I growl through gritted teeth. They have no place on the grounds of Hogwarts. If a staff member isn't about and one fancies a snack? That's a student's life gone right there. Trying to snatch a soul just to foolishly attempt to re-enter the portal beneath Azkaban. I screw the paper into a ball. It's only mildly related, but I blame Voldemort.

"Come on, Professor Moody was exceptionally moody yesterday, I don't want to run the slightest risk of being late. I grunt in response as we stand up. Alastor told me that Moody requested that Gryffindor and Slytherin were not to have DADA together, no time for their petty squabbles when he's trying to teach.

Fucking Voldemort.

* * *

"Now, because I'm sure none of you are going to shut up about it, Professor Dumbledore has agreed to bring this lesson forward from it's schedule." Moody glares at the fidgety class. "Get your textbooks out and turn to page 600." A collective groan resounds. "Ungrateful whelps!" He shouts, causing the front row to jump. "Today I will teach you to identify the effects and characteristics of dementors." This draws everyone's attention. "Quiet!" He barks as hushed chatter breaks out.

"If you're lucky, he might teach you how to cast it." I whisper to Draco. It's always been funny to me that nobody else sits with people of other houses. Petty. "A real instructor, rather than my conveniently timed luck."

"Potter! Don't think you can ignore this one!" I duck to avoid the potted plant he throws at me. He's a lot more reversed when it's just the Old Man Adventure Squad. I suppose this method gets people to pay attention to him more. Definitely worked with Tonks.

"Sorry, Professor." Draco smirks when I roll my eyes.

"So, who can tell me what a dementor looks like?" Moody scans the room. "Mister Goyle, on your feet." The boy shakily stands up.

"Um..." Whilst I wouldn't ever, _ever_ , attribute heightened intellect to Gregory Goyle, I'm sure he can- "Tall?" I smack my forehead. Was he dropped on his head as a baby? Repeatedly? Maybe a hippogriff kicked him in the head as a young boy.

"How are you even friends with him?" I ask Draco quietly. He just shakes his head slowly, giving his childhood friend a look of exasperation.

"Sit." Goyle hastily complies, eager to be out of Moody's firing line. "Anyone else?" He examines the rows for his next victim. It's no wonder people don't raise their hands in his classes. "Greengrass. Up." He clunks over to the girl. "What're you waiting for, girl? Give us a description." Pomfrey or Moody, who is worse?

"Black, hooded cloaks. Skeletal hands, they are supposed to fly." She looks down at the book. "Nobody knows what they look like under the hood." I snort at that.

"Not many can tell the tale afterwards, that's for sure. Good, 10 points. Does anyone else have anything to add? Maybe you, Potter, as you're so eager to chatter back there." Translation – Stand up and talk.

"Tattered black cloak with a full face-hood." I stand up. "The skin on their hands is more like dirt packed onto the bones than real skin. No fingernails nor hair. Not a single ounce of fat on any part of the body. Underneath the hood, they have no eyes, no nose – Just a mouth in the centre of the mottled flesh, grey and limp." I shrug. "And, as Gregory correctly pointed out, they are quite tall."

"Sit. 5 points for Ravenclaw." He stumps back over to the front of the room.

"Quite tall?" Draco whispers.

"What? It's true." I assure him, lounging back on my chair.

* * *

Despite Hedwig's best efforts to convince me otherwise, I don't skip Herbology. Hermione had tried to squeeze me to death in a hug the moment she spotted Hedwig and I walking towards the greenhouses. She shared my outrage at the mere thought of having even a _single_ dementor near Hogwarts. She'd tried her best to not ask me about Azkaban too much, which hadn't really worked. She seemed envious about the books I'd stolen, but frowned deeply before telling me to either turn them over to the authorities (Hah!) or be incredibly careful.

" _So, portal to dementor land?_ " Hedwig asks, sitting atop the greenhouse as an owl.

" _Dementorland would be the worst theme park ever._ " She hums in agreement. " _I don't fancy going through, it didn't look like Ekrizdis made it back… Not as a human, at least."_

" _You think he was turned into a dementor?"_

" _I don't know, but he definitely didn't stroll back out. I suspect he just died as he stepped through it, the wards around the island shut off not long after he went through."_ I explain, she might already know, we've never really figured out quite how well she experiences my memories.

" _What about all the souls in the base? Can't you free them or something?"_

" _It might upset the dementors, or the portal. I don't want to risk turning it into a big hoover, sucking everything through it."_ I shudder.

"Harry?" Hermione catches my attention. "Are you alright?"

"Just thinking about how heavily it would weigh on my mind if I killed everyone on Earth by mistake." She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath.

"That's nice." She shakes her head slightly.

" _You're going to age the poor girl prematurely._ " Hedwig butts in.

" _I'm thinking one day she'll just break down and hex me._ " Question is, do I shield myself from the hex, thus making her angrier, or take the hex and be hexed? " _What do you think of Nysa?_ "

" _The basilisk corpse, or your new pet?_ " Hedwig asks sarcastically.

" _We'll go with Nysa the second._ "

" _She's still up here with me. Might be dead._ " I look through Hedwig's eyes and see her prod Nysa with her talon. Angry hiss. _"She's fine._ _I hope you don't expect me to feed her whilst I'm baby sitting."_

" _Sprout said she couldn't come in here with us._ " I remind her. _"I can just ask Dobby to find something for her to eat. Maybe you could bond, do some hunting together?_ " Hedwig scoffs.

" _Lying in wait for something to wander into biting range isn't hunting._ "

" _Maybe you could drop her onto something?_ " I suggest.

" _That sounds awesome._ " She sounds excited. _"Shame I don't speak snake to coordinate."_

* * *

"Dementors, Albus." I grouch, pacing up and down before his desk. "It's sick. I won't allow it."

"I'm afraid neither one of us have any say in the matter." He sighs wearily, removing his glasses to clean them.

"I understand that your hands are tied, but mine are not in the same way." I stop and tap my finger on his desk. "Albus, this castle is my home. I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I've seen more of it's history that almost anybody else. I watch as the Founders worked together to create the establishment, as Nysa the First would pester Godric whilst Salazar claimed to have no part in it. Almost every sportsman in the country that have risen to Quidditch stardom have schooled here. The original Wizard's Council. Every Minister of Magic or Head Auror spent their teen years learning about the world right here. I watched you blow your Professors away, I watched Tom Riddle seduce his peers into his wicked mindset, and I watched my parents fall for each other in the same rooms that I sit down in every day." I take a breath. "I hate dementors. For everything they symbolise and the torment they dealt Sirius, and many other innocent people.

Even if I have to devise a way to kill every single one of them, I am _not_ letting those demons near _my_ school."

It might just a load of hot air, but I'll find a way to get rid of them.

* * *

 **A/N: Hogwarts patriotism!**

 **Not sure what's happening next chapter, hopefully it won't take too long to create.**

 **Enjoy!**


	44. Chapter 44: Into the woods Again

**A/N: We hit 1 million views shortly after the previous chapter! Amazing!**

 **I already used the chapter name I wanted in chapter 12, so this happened.**

* * *

Chapter 44: Into the woods… again

Three weeks and I still regularly 'overhear' chatter about my trip into Azkaban. Thankfully other topics, like the impending tournament, are on the front page of the papers, but the wild speculation, and accusations, are ridiculous. The latest story, written by Rita Skeeter, theorises that the tournament will, for whatever reason, include the inmates of Azkaban. I'm not even sure how anybody thinks it could be remotely true.

Due to the unwanted attention, I've spent more time actively avoiding humanity by either hiding in the Chamber of Secrets with both Nysa's, or growling at things in the Forbidden Forest. Buckbeak, Hagrid's hippogryph, has been trying to goad me into a fight for the past week, attempting, and sometimes succeeding, to kick me. I'm sure that him kicking me would hurt a lot more than if I tried the same manoeuvre. Scar's "main attack" is biting, which would surely be fatal, even to Buckbeak.

As hiding places go, The Chamber of Secrets is probably one of the best in the castle. Albus is too busy for me to hide in his office with him, so I've taken to avoiding my latest form of followers down here, plotting my nefarious schemes. Nobody would notice if I created an illusion of a staircase to 'accidentally' drop people following me to their untimely deaths, I'm sure.

The books I appropriated from Azkaban hold Ekrizdis' research into the dementors, which mostly consists of observations about their behaviour, as he was unable to really effect them in any way outside of blocking the portal off. It seems that he only partially understood how the bridge between Earth and his 'Realm of Magic' was created, but he had an in depth knowledge of the Earth-side portal. Without going back and watching him build the ritual in the room, I won't know exactly how it works, and to get there I'd have to create an easily detected, illegal portkey – or apparate there. I don't know how to apparate, unfortunately. Albus and Moody won't be open to the idea … maybe I can ask Cedric. He's probably down at the Quidditch pitch right now. I replace the book on the shelf, removing my reading gloves and placing them on the shelf too. Scooping a shirt and tie out of the clothing cabinet, I head over to the vault door.

" _Open_." I hiss. Maybe I should add a password? I swish my wand at my bag so it floats beside me whilst I worm my arms in the shirt.

"Harry?" I very nearly vomit my heart out in fright.

"Hermione, Ginny, what brings you here?" I ask as casually as I can manage, pretending that I didn't almost wet myself. The girls are standing side-by-side just outside of the partially-opened door. I slip through the gap and the door closes, preventing them from seeing my lair.

"We … uh." Ginny isn't looking at my eyes, but instead the blackened skin on my chest.

"How did you get down here? I'm pretty sure I left the entrance locked." I walk past them and run the tip of my wand down the button line of my shirt, quickly threading them together.

"Draco was trying to get Nysa to bite Crabbe and Goyle, so we took her." Hermione explains. Ah, Nysa is hanging from her shoulders. Sleeping again.

"What did they have to say about that?" I ask, securing my tie. I didn't expect company down here, or I'd have dressed properly inside.

"They didn't seem opposed to the idea of being bitten by a snake." Hermione frowns and continues. "Draco was initially annoyed that we interrupted their conversation, which, judging by the grins, wasn't complimentary of the girls they were looking at, but changed his tone quickly." Ginny snorts at that.

"Is this going somewhere?" I ask. I'd planned to already be outside of the toilets by now, already on my way to the Quidditch pitch, not still standing near one of Nysa I's shed skins.

"Can you dance?" Ginny asks me, no longer distracted.

"Dance?"

"The _ball,_ Harry! Draco said that's why we have the dresses." She explains.

"Oh, right. Forgot I didn't tell you about that." I scratch my head. "I can dance, yeah." I shrug. "Mostly ballroom stuff." A combination of history here in the castle, and the rooms in Grimmauld place.

"Really?" She seems surprised. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"Just sort of absorbed it." I smirk a bit. "Can we get going? It's a colder out here than in there." I pull my bag over my shoulder and we walk towards the stairs up into the castle.

"Is that why you weren't wearing a shirt?" Hermione asks.

"Sure, let's go with that."

"Can you teach us?" Ginny asks as we ascend. To not wear a shirt? I'd be glad to.

"To dance?" I ask, looking over my shoulder briefly. She's serious.

"Mum never thought we'd need to. We aren't the kind of family that goes to balls." She explains.

"Maybe. I don't know. I'm very busy." They both scoff, and probably rolls their eyes behind me.

"Doing what?" Hermione asks. "Hiding down here whenever you're not in class?"

"Alright, fine." I sigh as we reach the 'abandoned' toilets. "Maybe I've been avoiding all these idiots, your brother is one of them." I point at Ginny. "I genuinely have something else to do right now, so maybe tomorrow night?" I offer.

"Thank you, Harry." Hermione smiles.

"Isn't it a bit early to be thinking about this? The ball might not be until next year, or happen at all."

"Draco says his father told him it was on Christmas Day." Ginny supplies helpfully as we leave.

"Of course he did." I mutter. Maybe these two will go with each other, but Ginny doesn't seem to reciprocate Hermione's feelings. Some sort of weird triangle between the three of us – Hermione likes Ginny, Ginny likes me, although I completely ignore it. We'd be full circle if I fancied Hermione. She's a wonderful person, I think she's even my 'type'… my 'type' appears to be lesbians. But why is my entire life a complex knot of insanity? Hah. I'm glad Hedwig is the only one that knows how crude my monologuing is.

Ah, to be a teenager.

"Are you brooding again? It's been 30 seconds since you spoke." Ginny jabs my side with her fingers.

"Probably." I shrug. Maybe I should've been born as a girl, or was in another life. I've got bigger things to attend to right now, anyway. "I'm going down to the Quidditch pitch now, feel free to join me."

* * *

"You know it's illegal to apparate under-age, right?" Cedric, quite understandably, isn't open to the idea.

"To do it, sure." I agree, sitting beside him on the stands whilst the rest of the Hufflepuff team practice taking shots. "But technically it's not illegal to know how to do it."

"But I'd have to break the law to teach you, there's a whole process involved in being certified to teach, so you don't do it wrong and somebody splinches themselves in two." Damn it. Bloody certifications. There goes that plan.

"I'll have to wait a few years then." I put my feet up on the handrail.

"Why did you want to? Because of the uh..."

"Increasing number of attempts on my life?" He nods. "It'd be nice to be able to apparate away, sure." Definitely not because I want to duck under the wards of Azkaban, no sir. "so, you practising out here?" The whole thing looks too casual.

"No, we just thought we'd go for a fly." He explains, watching them in the air. "Do you want to join us? I don't think I've ever seen you on a broom." He scratches his chin and looks at me appraisingly.

"I'm more interested in the charmwork behind brooms than flying them myself, but I'm a fair flyer." I shrug innocently.

"Do you have a broom?" I shake my head. "Here." He holds out his own Nimbus. "Go and get one from the changing rooms, I think we have a Comet 220 in there. I'll tell the others that you're _not_ undercover for Ravenclaw." He jokes with a smile.

"I don't think I'd be allowed on the team anyway." I accept the broom.

Sucker.

* * *

"That was pretty good, where did you learn to fly like that?" Cedric asks as I float lazily beside him. What he doesn't know is that James would use this 220 whenever McGonagall would confiscate his 260, manufactured in 1974, to practice with. He was only allowed his own broom back for team practice and matches. This 220 saw a lot of use, and flying Cedric's Nimbus 2000 for a few seconds added something to my talents. I'm a cheater, sometimes it's fun.

"Oh, here and there." I smile, fighting off the need to flaunt the skill, as James would have done. James was a dick, but held phenomenal skill on a broom.

"You're not going to join the Ravenclaw team, right?" He laughs nervously.

"No, I'm not really a team player." I laugh, descending on the broom. "Maybe we can do it again some time? I need to go and get frowned at." Hermione has always had an aversion to brooms, and an aversion to anything that would facilitate me in killing myself.

True to my prediction, Hermione berates my reckless flying for a while, Ginny takes over with praise after a while. Yin and yang.

"Why won't you join the team?" Ginny asks me.

"Roger Davies."

"The captain?"

"Yes." I nod. "He doesn't like me, although the others would mutiny if I was good enough, but I don't want to anyway. Too much of a commitment. I'd much prefer to make brooms." I gesture to the forbidden forest on our right. "To make something that people marvel over like a work of art, you know? Sirius has a 1977 vintage 'Soaring Star' manufactured by Universal Brooms, they only made 10 and the company went bust in '78."

"He _does?_ " Ginny's eyes widen like tennis balls.

"There." I point at her. "That's the kind of look I want somebody to have on their face when they look at something I've made."

"Do you even know how to make a broom?" Hermione questions.

"No, but neither did Devlin Whitehorn, and he's a millionaire now." I remind her.

"Devlin… who?" She looks confused. Ginny almost gets whiplash as she gasps at Hermione.

"Devlin Whitehorn? Founder of the Nimbus Racing Broom Company? Inventor of every model of Nimbus broom? Hermione, How could you _not_ know this?" She shakes her head. "The Nimbus Racing Broom Company was founded in 1967 by Devlin Whitehorn with the launch of the Nimbus 1000 model, which was a wonder amongst brooms at the time." She recites, almost directly, from 'Quidditch through the ages'. It's quite impressive. I know that it's an ambitious goal to build a broom from scratch with almost no prior experience with enchanting, but nothing new ever gets created without pushing one's boundaries.

"Hey, look, Where's Hagrid going?" I look up as Ginny points to the half-giant's hut. Hagrid is standing at the tree line, lighting his lantern, his giant crossbow is leaning against a nearby tree.

"Hagrid!" I call out, waving as we skirt around his, recently harvested, pumpkin patch.

"Sorry, I'm a bit pressed fer time." He frowns beneath his messy beard as we walk closer.

"I thought you were having tea with Luna?" I didn't know, but I can see that she left just a couple of minutes ago. In a completely non-rushed skip too.

"'Fraid I had to send her to get Professor Dumbledore." He closes the window on the lantern.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione's voice laced with worry already. "Hagrid, What's going on?"

"I don' think I should say." He sound uncomfortable, not looking at me as I walk to the hoof prints behind him. A centaur? This far out?

"Hagrid, What's happened? Why are there centaur tracks here?" If I ask questions knowingly enough, Hagrid eventually spills secrets.

"It were Ronan." He slumps a bit. "'E came and asked for help."

Shit.

"The _centaurs_ came and asked for help?" I almost can't believe it.

"They said somethin's in there, somethin they can't deal with. So Magorian sent 'im to me." he explains.

" _Magorian_ sent to you for help? This is bad. Really not good." I look into the forest. "What did they find, Hagrid?"

"A demon. Some spirit of chaos. They didn't see it comin, so they're spooked. Small mercy is that it's trapped." He heft the crossbow up. I don't think a crossbow will do much for a trapped demon…

"Wait." I turn to him. "Did you say _trapped?_ " This seems like one of those times when I look back and realised I really messed up. I know the traps the centaurs use, having nearly fallen pray to them myself a few times, can't catch anything that can be described as a demon, so the only other trap in the Forbidden Forest that I'm aware of is the one I built to trap dementors.

"Above a pond." Hagrid confirms. "They don't know how long it'll hold it though."

"Depends what's caught inside." I say. "Should be fine for a while."

"And how do you know that?" Ginny asks, putting her balls up hands on her hips, not looking impressed at all. I feel a chill roll up my spine. I'm almost glad there aren't lots of Prewett women running around these days, that look is enough to quell Fred, George, Fabian, and Gideon – Certainly enough to make me not want to answer.

"Just a guess." I step back towards the forest. "You go and get Albus, Hagrid and I will get a head start." I quickly retreat into the forest, Hagrid in tow. He is grinning. "Oh, don't give me that look, Hagrid. We were about two seconds away from her tapping her foot."

"We? Nothin' to do with me."

Abandoned.

Wonderful.

* * *

The distant roar becomes increasingly louder as we draw closer to the trap. Whatever it is definitely isn't a dementor, unless they make this noise when they get trapped.

As the trees thin out, I can start to make out the 'demon' that has wandered into my trap. A burning figure, perhaps towering at twenty feet tall, large curved horns atop it's head, which it uses to butt against the edge of the shield formed within the trapzone. Clawed hands, with more fire. Sunken holes in it's "head" which burn with dark fire in place of eyes.

"What is it?" Hagrid asks whilst I attempt to distract myself by leaning against one of the trees holding the spells. Luckily it holds back the fire, or the trees – and therefore the spells – would have been destroyed. I've definitely never seen something like this walking around the forest before. What is it doing here?

"Let's go and say hello."

"'Arry, wait-"

"Excuse me, Mr Demon, may I ask how you got here?" I ask, sounding much more confident than I feel.

"PLAY NOT THESE GAMES WITH ME, WALKER OF TIME." The booming shakes my bones as the deep voice rushes through the forest. 'Walker of Time'? Is this some immortal being that has wandered into my experiment? "FREE ME FROM THIS PRISON AND I PROMISE YOURS SHALL BE A SWIFT DEATH."

"A _very_ tempting offer." I remark sarcastically, earning a snarl whilst I work my way around the pond to find the spot where it touched the ground.

"I, PEEVEROSS NOG'THROLL, DESCENDANT OF CHAOS, WILL BREAK FREE AND BURN YOUR WORLD TO ASHES." I continue to shimmy around, looking for it's footsteps. Why can't Balrog-esque creatures ever have normal names? It didn't get here by walking, as there are no footprints, or 'timeprints', so it must've flown in. The magic surrounding it's body is a whirling vortex of black fire, angrily whipping around outside the visible spectrum. What ever 'chaos' the beast referred to, it probably _is_ descended from it. Not a particularly nice fellow. A spark of yellow is nestled deep within the fire, no doubt the creature's true magic, rather than the projected fire. Strangely enough, it's the same colour as-

"Peeves!" I blurt out. 'Peeveross'. Peeves. What the hell? Peeveross roars angrily.

"DO NOT PRESUME TO CALL ME BY THAT PUNY NAME!" He bellows.

"Peeves. I will not let you out until you calm down and change back." My wand pops back into it's holster. The fire around Peeveross' body whirls increasingly faster as it closes into a shell around his body, and in a puff of smoke – Peeves appears.

"Ohoho, Potty, Bumbles won't be happy with you! Oh noes!" Peeves floats upside down as he laughs. He, unfortunately, has a point. If he'd gotten free and went on a rampage… Endangering students with some sort of creature, it's all too reminiscent of Newton Scamander's expulsion. "Now let me out!"

* * *

"And what have you learnt from this?" Albus looks at me disapprovingly from across his desk.

"That there are worlds beyond our own out of reach to us, but nonetheless have minor influence here."

"But more importantly?" He looks at me over his glasses, lacing his fingers together against his mouth.

"Not to leave my half-developed experiments lying around where something may run into them. Such as inter-dimensional poltergeists." Albus refused to explain Peeves' true nature to me, and said that some things are better left to rest. I suspect Peeves exists as Peeveross in Ekrizdis' "Realm of Magic", but as Peeves here. After he became trapped in the circle, he pulled his whole form into this plane to attempt to break out.

"Severus has expressed concern about your recent behaviour. Stating that 'non-disruptive' behaviour is atypical for you." Months ago, Albus wouldn't give me such direct, albeit still filtered, quotes from Snape, but he knows that I will find out exactly what was said at some point.

"So even when I'm not doing anything wrong, he thinks I'm doing something wrong?" I shake my head in disbelief. Maybe he was dropped on his head as a child? Perhaps that would explain the nose...

* * *

 **A/N: I'm going to go through and read the entire story again to get the creative juices flowing once more, as I feel that I've not been doing the story justice recently. It's quite daunting looking at 120k words on the story stats, but I'm looking forward to it.**

 **Thoughts and suggestions are, as ever, greatly appreciated.**

 **Enjoy!**


	45. Chapter 45: Delegation Arrival

**A/N: I have the FF app on my phone now, so I can receive messages there too. Quite why they aren't shared, I don't know.**

* * *

Chapter 45: Delegation arrival

"What terrible fate has befallen you that brings you to my carpet today?" Albus asks me after finishing whatever it was that he was writing whilst I lay face down on the floor in his office. If the house elves didn't clean this, I wouldn't want my face anywhere close to where all these dirty shoes have been.

"Hedwig broke up with me." My voice comes out muffled.

"Ah." Is all he says. I roll my head to the side.

"I knew it was coming, but… well I think I thought we had more time? I don't know." I let out a suffering sigh. "This is the best outcome for her though, I wouldn't want her to stay with me in the same way now that her feelings have changed."

"I have heard many times that if you love something, you should let it free."

"I suppose it's true. Now she is free to spread her wings, forgive the pun, and find her way. It's a shame I haven't managed to find a way for her to channel magic yet." I roll my head to the other side, looking over at Albus. "If she could, would she be able to enroll as a student here?"

"Unless she is a witch-"

"Which she isn't." I interject.

"Then it will be a decision for the board of governors." He finishes.

"Hmm." I roll over, onto my back. "She's a part of my family by law, so they can't kick her out into the normal world, so that's not a worry any more." I rest my arms behind my head. "Any ideas? On the magic part, I mean."

"Perhaps a staff, rather than a wand?" He strokes his beard thoughtfully. "But what then would be the focus?"

"I've tried her with a few different wands, precious metals, and even pixie gold." Albus' eyebrow quirks at the last one. "None of them worked. She could tell the difference between gold and pixie gold though, but the only other reaction was when she insisted on trying to hold mithril for as long as she could..." She still has the burn mark on her palm, three days later.

"A thought for another time." He announces, standing up and clapping his hands once. "As your familiar, she is welcome in the castle whenever you are." Free food and lodging – No problem with that. I climb to my feet and brush the lint off of my robes. I should put a lint repelling charm on them really.

"Oh, Why are you even up here, by the way? Shouldn't you be… well anywhere but your office?"

"Tradition is to have the Headmaster of the host school not meet with the other delegations until the entrance ceremony." He explains. "I feel I have already toed the line by welcoming them onto the grounds." They arrived earlier, about two hours ago now, but I wasn't outside with everyone else to watch, I can just watch in happen later. Maybe I should stop lurking in dark chambers next to basilisk corpses in my free time.

"How are the champions going to be picked?" I ask him, following on as he walks out of his office at a leisurely pace, despite the fact that dinner is due to start in quarter of an hour.

"I would have thought that you would have overheard something by now." I can hear the smile on his face.

"Bits and pieces about a goblet, and I sincerely hope it isn't anything to do with alcohol." The gargoyle slides into place beside us after we cross out into the corridor leading to the headmaster's tower.

"Ah, It is nice to know that some things still slip by you. I shall leave you wondering until the feast."

"I hate surprises." I grumble.

* * *

"Mister Potter! Where have you been?" McGonagall looks down at me disapprovingly after I arrive at the corridor leading to the great hall. I'm late for being early? "Never mind that." She pushes me towards the doors. "And Potter..." I turn back to her.

"Professor?"

"Straighten that tie." She looks at me disapprovingly.

"Aye-aye." I say under my breath. The whole staff has been frantically trying to impress upon the student body than we have to at least _look_ neat and organised around the other schools, even if we actually aren't. Fake it 'til you make it.

In the past when the Tri-wizard tournament has been hosted at Hogwarts, they lay out extra tables for the other schools, this time the ancient hand-crafted tables look to have been transfigured to be longer, allowing extra room for this year's additional students.

Godric would be rolling in his grave if he knew what they'd done to his tables.

"Pssst." Did I just get…?

"Oh, I didn't think you'd be in here." Tonks is 'guarding' the doorway inside the hall. 'Guarding' apparently consists of leaning against the wall. She's wearing her fancy crimson Auror robes, which only come out for ceremonial occasions. Usually they're screwed up at in the bottom of a cupboard at home. The badge embroidered at the breast has some convoluted way of displaying Tonks' job and her current rank, although I don't think anybody even knows what the crest marking mean, despite claiming otherwise.

"Shack's gotta walk around in the cold all night, so I'm ain't complainin'." She grins.

"Poor Kingsley, Forced to actually _work_." She rolls her eyes.

"I _am_ working. Dya know how hard it'll be once the food is rolled out?" She looks pained.

"You could-"

"Potter. Find a seat." McGonagall reuses the phrase for perhaps the thousandth time since being employed here.

"Sorry, Professor." My smile doesn't do much, or anything, to soften the glare. She turns on her heel and strides towards her seat. Tonks sticks her blue tongue out at me as I head for the Ravenclaw benches. I sit down beside Hedwig, who, in turn, is sitting next to Luna.

" _You know what sucks?_ " Hedwig asks me as our elbows touch.

" _Humans when confronted with a straw in their drink?_ " I suggest.

" _No. Well, yes, but I was thinking of another thing._ " She shakes her head to get back on track. Clearly I just interrupted the rhythm of whatever she'd planned to say. " _Breaking up with one person is bad enough, but two? In one day?_ " She slumps onto the table, resting her face in her arms.

" _I'm sure you'll think of something._ " I say in a placating manner. " _Tonks'll undersand._ "

" _And you were so nice about it too."_ She continues to moan. Ah, the angst stage. " _Both of you are too nice._ "

" _I'd say I'm about thirty percent nice."_ I look over at Tonks, she's rocking back and forth on her feet. " _Tonks is like… seventy, no_ _sixty_ _percent nice."_ Tonks spots me watching and winks.

" _I wonder if she thinks about you as much as you think about her."_ Hedwig muses.

" _Do I do that a lot?_ " This is answered by Hedwig scoffing.

" _Only all the time. I don't even think you realise because it's going on in your head, I get the outside view of it. Almost every situation, even when some girl has an extra button or two undone and is trying to chat you up. You think 'Tonks would be laughing at me if she were here.' Or jokes you get excited to tell, then don't because nobody else would get it." She explains. "It's kind of sweet, really."_ Huh.

" _Do you mind telling her that some time? That would earn me some major points._ " Not that I need points, but, as Bruce Forsyth frequently implies – Points mean prizes. Tonks winks at me after seeing that I'm watching her, but almost trips over as the doors burst open to admit the Durmstrang students. I think Albus said something a second ago. They come in two lines with chanting and staves, upholding the very… masculine image people tend to associate with the school. Halfway into the hall, the staves are abruptly set down and the acrobatics begins, I'm far more interested in the scorch marks left on the floor.

I can't wait to see what profanities Filch comes up with when he has to clean them.

"And now, the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" Albus raises his hands and the doors open again. Why is there even an elaborate entrance like this? They've been here for ages already. Regardless of my opinion on the matter, the blue uniform-clad girls prance into the room. Butterflies and gymnastics. If Durmstrang is the 'manly' school, and Beauxbatons is the 'girly' school, where does that leave Hogwarts? The one with the worst name? Madam Maxime enters the hall after her students, accompanied by Fleur Delacour. A haze sets into the air as she walks by, I flinch my arm away from Hedwig and my vision instantly clears up. No desire to watch Fleur as she walks, was I feeling it through Hedwig? I glance over at Tonks, who seems to have missed the whole thing by peeking her head out of the hall, looking for intruders I suppose.

"Hedwig." I whisper, shaking her form the trance. Her dreamy expression sours into a scowl as she crosses her arms angrily. I can foresee this being a problem.

"You can feel it now?" She whispers back.

"Only with contact, which I shall avoid." The students watch as our foreign visitors seat at our, newly extended, tables.

* * *

After dinner, the tables are moved to allow room for the Goblet of Fire to sit in the centre of the hall. Albus very quickly had his age line in place to ensure nobody endangered their lives, nobody under the age of 17, that is. Ideally, I'd have liked to sit with him in his office for a chat tonight, but he has to go and be important, so instead I've opted to try and figure out if the goblet makes any indication to it's choice as they are entered.

From what I've witnessed, a tendril of magic reaches out from the goblet each time a piece of parchment enters it's range, no doubt it checks the name and school written on it before accepting it. One edge of the goblet, when approached, actually begins to read the entry outside of Albus' age line because, despite the age line being perfectly circular, the cup isn't perfectly in the centre, or maybe the enchantments upon the goblet aren't symmetrical? It's impossible to know. Well, not without vigorous inspection of the cup.

So far, every single entry, of which there have been 23, has evoked the exact same reaction from the artifact. The champions may well have already been chosen, and the magic decides exactly who it is later, or there might be a shift in it's magic if it decides when the name is entered. It's also possible that the goblet knows who it wants, and is just waiting for them to enter. All hail the omnipotent cup!

"What's so funny?" Tonks is now sitting on the bench behind me. "You've just been staring at it."

"Enchanter's humour." I say dismissively. "I'm trying to figure out who is picks, but I've got nothing yet." Tonks moves onto my bench. "Would you have entered in your seventh year?"

"Mmm. Maybe? Ask me again when we see how dangerous it is." She stretches her legs out in front of her. "How about you? If they do it again in a few years?"

"That'd be tempting fate." I laugh. "I'd definitely get chosen if I did, then every possible bad thing that could happen, every oversight in security and safety, would align to try and kill me. On top of everything else that's been going on, it'd probably finish me off." At least one of the champions this year is projected to die, even with the added _safety_. 'Safety' in the form of soul sucking demons. Lovely. "Spoken to Hedwig yet?" I see her nod in my peripheral vision.

"She said she was relieved that you didn't react badly." I look away from the goblet as she lets out a sigh. Long black, wavy hair. "S'like you said, it was always gonna happen."

"C'est la vie." I dig my cloak out of my pocket. "Here, saves you sleuthing about as a Ravenclaw student tonight." She stuffs it into the pocket of her robe.

"Oh, that reminds me – I brought that pixie orb with me like you asked. Think it'll work?" It was actually her idea in a letter.

"It transformed her, so it's probably our best chance." I shake my head as another entrant fails to evoke a different reaction. "I'm not going to my classes tomorrow anyway, Halloween n'all, so I'll see what I can find out about it."

"In your underground lair." She smiles teasingly.

"It's not a _lair_ , It's a _chamber_." She rolls her eyes. "You be surprised how often Godric and Salazar would have the exact same exchange."

"You have to tell me about them some day. Tonight, maybe?" She asks, somehow making it sound suggestive.

"Sans the Auror robe?"

"Hmm, naked and listening to a story in bed? It'll be like we're still at home."

"I didn't say anything about being naked."

"You said without the robe." A sly smirk spreads across her face as she stands up.

"You're…?"

"Goodnight, Harry." She walks away, seemly aware of my lingering eyes.

Damn it.

* * *

 **A/N: The words just weren't coming to me for this one. By** _ **far**_ **the hardest chapter I've ever composed, hopefully you like it.**

 **Relationships don't last forever, as much as we often may wish them to.**

 **Enjoy.**


	46. Chapter 46: The Goblet of Fire

Chapter 46: The Goblet of Fire

"How do you morph your skin to be so soft?" I ask Tonks as we lay in bed. October 31st, 1994. Sixteen minutes past five in the morning. Harry Potter's bedroom, Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts, Scotland.

"Just kinda do it." She shrugs, but in the position she's laying in, 'to conserve space', it doesn't really work. "Lots of moisture, I guess."

"Where does the water come from, though?" I trail my hand along her side, down to her hip. "Where does anything come from where magic is concerned?"

"Psh, don't ask me – I just an Auror." She pokes my nose. "You're the one that's supposed to figure that stuff out."

"Huh? Since when was that _my_ responsibility? People have been trying to do that for _thousands_ of years." She laughs, blowing warm air across my chest.

"Then it's about time somebody gets it, right?" She reasons. "Just try and do it before your beard grows in." Tonks traces my jaw with her finger. "When did this start, anyway?"

"It's barely there, but last week. I figure it's Scar catching up to me, the mane is reaching over to my body too. I won't develop a full coat of guard hairs, but if I ever do decide to grow a beard, it will be a cross between Hagrid and Albus' – Which sounds absolutely amazing, actually." I explain, marvelling at the mental image.

"Will you get some wicked claws too? I've never really tried to have claws..." She holds up her hand, inspecting her newly pointed fingernails.

"I don't think my scalp could handle you with _real_ claws." I remark. She drops her hand and grins at me evilly.

* * *

"What _are_ you going to do today?" Tonks asks, lacing up her boots after dressing. She's wearing a bright yellow pixie cut today.

"Avoid the festivities, avoid my professors, and try and make progress with this." I have Hedwig's pixie orb in my hands. I'm not getting out of bed for another half-hour, at _least_.

"Whatcha gonna do to it?" She, cruelly, wraps the invisibility cloak around herself. I wonder if she's caught on that it's _THE_ Invisibility Cloak. She'd probably be more hesitant about using "Death's" cloak if she knew.

"No idea. I'll try pixie gold, but I'm running low on that. I'll see if Hedwig's about later too."

"How can you run out of pixie gold?" She frowns,.

"Well, Baxter, my pixie friend, hasn't been around recently. Dobby can only go to pixie-land when he's with Baxter, so he can't just go and check on them." I run my chin. "I think I might've ignited a war by destabilising their entire economy with the sudden influx of gold."

"You started a war?"

"Maybe, I hope not. Maybe he just died, crushed by his wealth, physically, not metaphorically – It's been known to happen." I try and twist the orb to 'activate' it, or maybe solve it like my Rubik's cube. Tonks leans down and kisses my cheek.

"You have fun with that, I have to meet the French Aurors today."

"Brilliant. Maybe we should just be inviting more could-be assassins into Hogwarts." I sigh. "I don't trust most of the English Aurors either, actually."

"You don't trust _anyone._ " She rolls her eyes, pulling the invisible hood up.

"Constant vigilance." I shrug. Tonks snorts invisibly. "Oh, and stay away from the outer grounds until I've dealt with the dementors?"

"Fucking dementors." She growls.

* * *

The only progress I've made on the orb in the hour I have spent in the chamber so far is… Nothing, actually. I snuck down here under a disillusionment charm, sat at my desk, orb in hand, and haven't learnt anything new. The orb is a sort of glass, but I can't see it's creation, so I can assume it as created with magic, rather than forged. Due to the nature of pixie magic, I can't see it's exact age as time is distorted around it. From what little I know of the pixie-land, it exists in some approximation of the fourth dimension, so crossing into, or out of, it creates a blip of feedback on objects that I look at.

" _Nyssssa!"_ I call out in Parseltongue.

" _Yesss, massster?_ " She is busy exploring Salazar's statue. I scoop the orb up into my hand and head over to her.

" _What is this?"_ I hold the orb up to her current perch, on Salazar's moustache, for her to taste. Her tongue flicks around the closest surface of the orb.

" _An orb, master._ " Brilliant. A lazy, sarcastic pet snake. Why does she mimic me so well?

" _I'm far too aware that it's an orb, Nysa, but try and look beyond that, please?"_ I ask as politely as the serpentine language can allow.

" _Ssspirit orb, master. A… Tomb?"_

" _It's a grave? For what?"_

" _No, no – A vault. I taste no death, master."_ Now _that's_ interesting.

" _Thanksss. Bring this up next time you want food._ " I quickly head back to my desk.

* * *

In the great words of Victor Frankenstein – It's alive!

Lesser know fact – Victor Frankenstein, upon his final capture in 1819, was sent to Azkaban as an infamous practitioner on Necromantic magiks. Nobody questioned the English's decision, despite Frankenstein himself not being English. The ICW ruled him as a danger to wizarding kind for his blatant disregard for the Statute of Secrecy.

Even lesser known fact – The Elder Wand was lost for several years in 1819…

But anyway, back to me.

The pixie's orb is a living thing, the magic contained within the orb is more akin to a consciousness, as is most magic, than an inert object. Excluding Tonks, when I try to 'psychometrise' living things, it doesn't work very well, so without exerting my ability onto the orb, I wasn't getting anything back, but, once I tried _pushing_ , it all became clearer, but the downside is the pounding headache that I generally associate with touching too many books.

"Urgh." I groan. Maybe hitting my head on the desk hasn't helped the headache. I'll go a run as Scar, that usually fixes me up. There's a passage, more of a pipe, than leads out into the forest down here, it's only a short run to Hagrid's from there. Tea that's somehow hotter than the boiling point of water, yet remains liquid. Just what I need.

* * *

"I don' like it, 'Arry." Hagrid says, anxiously peering through his curtains at the floating demons. "Dementors, at Hogwarts." He shakes his head. "Ain't right, I tell yeh. Dumbledore won't let it stand."

"He's trying his best to overturn the ruling, Hagrid." I say, chewing off the cake part of Hagrid's famous Rock Cakes. Pumpkin, unsurprisingly. "It's beyond his jurisdiction, only the Minister can call them off now. Albus might be able to get the ICW on his side to put pressure on Cornelius, but then it's still his ego versus the ICW."

"We got no chance, then." Hagrid grumps, slumping back down onto his chair.

"How's it look out there?"

"At least six I could see jest from the window!" He takes a huge gulp from his giant mug, there's definitely something stronger than just his tea in there. I don't think that a mug full of fire whiskey would make Hagrid so much as slur his words, however. "To Lily and James!" He suddenly spouts out, raising his tea. Maybe he was drinking before I got here too, he doesn't have any classes to do today. I smile and tap my mug to his. Most people toast to me on Halloween, but I'm not the hero. "Something stronger?" Hagrid offers whilst pouring something into his drink. Can it still be called tea?

"Uh, no thanks, Hagrid." The only experience I've had with drinking alcohol is when Fudge gave me some whiskey in his office. "How much have you had?" He shrugs his giant shoulders.

"Only a bit." He says defensively, smiling broadly under his beard.

"Why do I have the feeling that I'd be comatose for a month if I had 'only a bit'?" An intoxicated Hagrid just seems to get a bit more anxious and a lot more jolly. It's very tempting to join him, and probably end up nearly getting killed whilst trying to shoot dementors out of the sky with his crossbow, but I need to be alive to witness the champion selection.

"Nothin' but skin n' bones, you are. Nowhere to put it!" He chuckles.

"Anyone's 'skin and bones' compared to you, Hagrid." This causes him to laugh even louder. "Say, Hagrid – Do you know anything about pixies?" I cross the hut and open the thick, tattered curtains to peer up at the infested sky.

"Pixies?" He hums. "We used to get a bunch o' pixies by our 'ouse every summer. Me Dad hated em, they always pick 'im up!" He pounds a large fist on the table, shaking it despite it's sturdy build. "Lil' blighters, they'd fly up from Cornwall when the weather got too 'ot. Wouldn't get to see 'em leave after I started Hogwarts, but they only stayed about a week into each September, anyways." He takes another deep gulp from his mug, wiping his mouth with a huge swipe of his hand.

"Do you know where in particular? In Cornwall, I mean. Doesn't narrow it down too much." I turn back to him and take a sip of my, rapidly cooling, tea.

"Don't rightly know." He strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Couldn't say. 'Nobody really knows where a pixie goes', as they say."

"Nobody really knows..." I repeat softly, once more staring out into the sky.

* * *

"It appears the Goblet is almost ready to make it's decision!" Albus' booming voice quickly kills any muttering conversations. Dinner had been uneventful, near enough everybody excitedly chattering on about the champion selection. The hall holds a general 'jollyness' today, like most Halloweens, and I've overheard talk of several parties happening tonight in the common rooms to celebrate the end of the war. It seems that they will be remembering the night for a very different reason than I do, At least I didn't have to put up with the pitying looks for most of the day.

My attention is drawn back to the present as Albus reduces the candle flames in the room to almost nothing, darkening the room. I catch his eye and quirk an eyebrow at the theatrics, he smiles a tiny bit. The fire within the goblet suddenly flashes from it's subdued blue to a harsh red flame, bathing the room in light once more. The goblet flickers blue for a moment before spitting a lightly smoking piece of parchment out of the top. I'm sure we all look like a bunch of idiots, every single person watching a tiny piece of paper falling slowly from the air.

"The champion of Durmstrang-" Albus' voices echoes around the hall. "Is..." Suspense. "Viktor Krum!" The hall bursts into cheers. Viktor receives slaps on the back from the other Durmstrang students and cheering from the rest. He looks pleased with himself as he walks towards Albus. Albus shakes his hand, exchanges a few words with him, then points out the doorway in the corner of the room. He raises a hand to call for silence again as Viktor goes out of sight. Once more, our collective attention is focused on the flaming goblet.

"An invisible person could've dropped their name in when Professor Dumbledore moved it a moment ago." Luna, sitting beside me, points out. She's right – Albus removed the age line when he levitated it.

"Let's hope nobody was stupid enough to do that." I whisper back to her.

"The champion for Beauxbatons..." He unfolds the parchment. "is Fleur Delacour!" Once more the tables begin to clap, congratulating the person foolish enough to enter a game where they'll most likely die. I, of course, join in. I think I hear a few wolf whistles as Fleur saunters down the centre aisle. I don't think some of these people are even hooked into her allure right now, they're just rude.

I mean she's pretty, but she's no Tonks.

But Tonks could be Fleur. There's a thought for another time.

"And last, but certainly not least, the champion of Hogwarts … Cedric Diggory!" Albus barely gets the last syllable out before people are on their feet, mainly from the Hufflepuff table, shouting and cheering. House of the Loyal and all that jazz. Cedric half-jogs towards Albus with a mile wide grin on his face and energetically shakes the wrinkled hand before taking off towards the door, giving his table a sheepish wave before descending down the stairs. The Hufflepuffs continues cheering loudly for while until Albus gets them to calm down. "And now they are decided, a few words from Mister Bagman..."

"It's not quite finished yet." Luna voices my thoughts perfectly as the goblet violently begins to sputter. Is it going to explode? I rest my fingers on my wand holster, ready to make a shield.

Rather anti-climatically, it spits out a fourth piece of paper. I've never seen it do that – A fourth piece from the goblet – in all the times I've seen it in the hall. I'd have been less surprised if it _did_ explode, actually.

Albus catches the, lightly smouldering, parchment between his middle and index fingers, then carefully unfolds it. A look of… panic? No, not quite. His eyes meet mine.

"Harry Potter." He shouts.

"Ah fuck." I slap my forehead.

* * *

 **A/N: Ah fuck.**

 **Enjoy.**


	47. Chapter 47: The Fourth Champion

**A/N: Angsty note about updates, or lack thereof**

* * *

Chapter 47: The Fourth Champion

"Harry Potter!" Albus' voices carries around the room a second time. He looks shocked, confused even, and is already wearing a frown. I get to my feet and do that awkward half-jog one does when a door is held open a little too far away. The whole hall watches me do it. Nothing looks out of place as I approach, just the entrants walking to the cup, dropping their names in, then leaving. The cup would surely bar any attempts to enter another student in the tournament. Albus holds out the slip to me, looking very somber. I take it in both hands.

"Shit." I mutter, looking up to meet Albus' eyes. "It was _Crouch_." I whisper, leaning in as not to be overheard. "He looks like he was cursed or something, I'd wager the imperius."

"Distressing news." Albus strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Distressing, indeed." Albus turns to the staff and beckons to them. Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr., Flitwick, Moody, McGonagall, and Snape join us at the front of the hall. Why Snape? Who really knows why he does anything?

"Dumbledore? What's going on? How was Potter's name drawn?" Barty asks Albus.

"At this stage I can only guess, but I suspect foul play." Does everyone always expect Albus to know everything straight away? I mean, in this case he _does_ because I told him, but otherwise it's unfair to assume he does.

"Foul play? But who would do such a thing?" Barty nervously fiddles with his bowler hat.

"Are we just to believe that Potter played no part in this?" Snape interjects.

"Severus!" McGonagall sounds completely aghast. Headmaster Kakaroff and Madam Maxime join the group.

"What is going on?! I was not aware Hogwarts would be having _two_ champions!" Kakaroff manages to not completely shout his accusations.

"Eef 'Ogwarts 'as two, Beauxbatons will 'ave two too!"

"I assure you that this was not engineered by Hogwarts, but until a thorough investigation has taken place, pointing fingers will achieve nothing positive." Albus' calm voice cuts through the rising tension. "For now, Filius – could you please wait here with Mister Potter whilst congratulate the champions?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Flitwick nods quickly. I lean against the staff table, half-standing as the group shuffles away, bickering among themselves. Crouch seemed far too oblivious, it's not right. He was the one that entered my name, but the imperius curse doesn't tamper with memories. Ah, the possibility that his assailant, probably Barty Crouch Jr., removed his recollection of doing it. Either that, or he's under the imperius right now.

"Shit." I mutter.

"I concur." Flitwick says, his eyes follow my hands as I grip the table. "Mister Potter?"

"I think Barty is under the imperius right now." I quietly tell him. It's not something I want anybody to overhear, even the staff.

"Does Albus know?" Flitwick glances over at the antechamber's door.

"No." I shake my head slightly. "He only knows that Barty put my name in." This news causes Flitwick to frown heavily. Seems to be one of those frowny days. I probably shouldn't be surprised at this point, this is almost a normal day for me now. I'm even fairly confident that Hedwig, after connecting with the spirit inside the pixie's orb, can manipulate her magic, but I suppose the price for working that out is the universe deigns to put me in the tournament. Well, the universe in the form of Bartemius Crouch.

"I shall inform Albus at once. Stay here." He says, taking a step before turning around for a second. "And try not to get into any more trouble?" He gives me a strained smile before quickly heading after the others. Easy, I just don't move and nothing wil-

"Mister Potter." Scrimgeour. I should try that more often. Sure would be awful if a goblin came along with a million galleons! "Something funny?"

"No, no. Professor Flitwick said to not get into trouble, and then you appeared."

"I see." He looks at the goblet suspiciously. "Have you any… _unique insights_ into why your name has been chosen?" He looks back at me with a, bordering on intimidating, stare.

"You'd have to ask Albus." He's better at playing the politician. I'd get far too frustrated because I've seen it's Barty. Although I'm sure Albus trusts my word on the matter. "But were I in your position-" He had turned to walk away, but pauses. "- I'd keep a close eye on Mister Crouch."

* * *

"For fuck's sake, Albus." I repeat for perhaps the fiftieth time since I've been in his office. After the initial disbelief turned to rage, then to accusations, the students were dismissed then the heads of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had a lot to say to Albus and I. I understand the frustration completely, it's totally unfair for a second student's name to come out of the goblet for one school, but I did try and explain that Cedric is the Hogwarts champion.

They weren't buying what I was selling, so to speak.

I used my cloak to sneak up here after things died down a bit.

"Indeed." Albus is leaning over his pensieve.

"I'd be _more_ than happy to beat the snot out of him and arrest him. I really don't understand why-"

"Harry." Albus cuts me off. "Bartemius Crouch is a pillar of our community. Being instrumental in combating the forces of Voldemort throughout the war has placed him in _very_ high standings with many people within Britain, and his more recent work has reflected positively on Britain worldwide. If you were to bring these allegations to the right, or perhaps _wrong_ people, you would come under scrutiny and be vilified."

"When exposing a crime is treated as _committing_ a crime, you are ruled by criminals."

"Be that as it may, some matters require some delicacy." He says, diplomatically.

"You've said it to me, so I'll throw it back – Sometimes we have to make a choice between doing what is _easy_ and what is _right_." I stop pacing and lean against the sturdy old desk. Neither of us say anything for a while. "I'm _scared,_ Albus. The death rate… there have been four Tri-wizard tournaments in which nobody has died in a task. _Four_. One of those saw all the contestants barred from the tournament unofficially and they all died from not going to the first event. The cup is a curse, I was hoping that it would go smoothly this time. I don't want to die, certainly not to some stupid game designed, and run, by idiots." I swallow a lump in my throat. "It's terrifying. I don't know what is waiting for us, nobody has spoken about it anywhere I've been walking, I'm out of the loop on things concerning my life, or it's abrupt end."

"Welcome to mortality." Albus smiles grimly.

"I can't even go and blow off some steam in the Chamber because I've got some delicate potions brewing that won't enjoy the explosions at all." I let out a long sigh. As much as I hate to be grouped with them, both Tom and Salazar would blast chunks of the masonry apart as I often do. Sometimes you just have to break something to release the pent up anger.

"Extra potions work?" Albus asks hopefully, also attempting to change the topic.

"There wouldn't be much point to it. Snape'll never give me any commendation for work above Outstanding NEWT grades. Hell, I could cure lycanthropy and he wouldn't even acknowledge it."

"A little unfair, don't you think?" He looks at me disapprovingly.

"Maybe you're right." I concede. "He'd probably give me detention for not focussing on his classes." This actually manages to draw a laugh out of him. "But no, it's not that. I wanted to try and make floo powder less … powdery? It's not very transportable or convenient as a powder, but because wizards are, generally, a bunch of idiots, they don't even realise how much inconvenience they are putting up with. It's just become the accepted norm to have to grab a fistful of powder."

"And you think a liquid will be less cumbersome?" He asks sceptically.

"Not at all, but a pellet would be." I hold up my thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "The problem with trying to compress floo powder is that-"

"It explodes under force." Albus finishes the sentence, or rather interrupts it.

"Precisely, It's the friction between the particles that set it off, so when I try to magically compress it, I end up with scorch marks on my table. This, in theory, will allow me to compress the floo powder without the combustion, _and_ it will break apart when it's dropped, so it will still function as floo powder does now."

"Fascinating." He marvels. "Do you believe you will succeed?"

"I'm optimistic, but I don't think I'll get it perfect, or even correct, on the first try." It might take weeks, maybe even _months_ , to refine it. "I'll have to submit the whole documented process, and several samples, to the Department of Magical Transport, and I'll have to test it extensively myself too, but they might just pay more attention to the project if it has my name on it." I finish with a grimace. I don't like using my name, but I'm also not very patient.

"How did you formulate the solution to the issue?" Albus drops another memory into his pensieve, then flicks his wrist to have the cabinet move back into it's less conspicuous form.

"Just sort of popped into my head. I know that there are some wizards that smuggle narcotics by hiding them from sniffers by coating them in a thin film to mask the scent, my idea was to use something similar, but the inspiration for exactly what was a medical lubrication spell, although the wand I learnt it from, that of a healer in Saint Mungo's, mainly used it for sex, some kind of fetish thing, judging by all the leather." I shrug. "I don't really get the full picture, thankfully."

"Of… course." Albus looks a bit perplexed as he eases himself into his desk chair. Poor old boy.

"So really, it was a culmination of extraordinary information in an un-extraordinary mind."

"You think so little of yourself?" He asks from behind me, my gaze idly falls on the sorting hat.

"Can you imagine what you could have done with this skill by my age? Or if Hermione could devour books with a touch?" I laugh, she'd push herself to breaking point every day. "I was sorted into Ravenclaw because I seek knowledge as a fundamental part of my personality, but maybe there's a limit to my drive to do so? I like using it too, I could learn skills that take decades to perfect and combine them together, the extraordinary part of me is that I can mix lifetimes of talent together, whereas most people can only have one life. Say, a wizard that has pursued feats of alchemy for his entire, long lived, life coupled with the talents of a dozen master duellists."

"If you can have the two skills work together..."

"I can't really think of the practical applications, but I certainly have the ability to pull it off, whatever 'it' is."

"And in the tournament? If… well, if you _must_ compete?" I can almost feel his gaze trying to bore into my back.

"I will try my best not to die." Which includes non-tournament related death too.

"You could win?"

"Was that a question?" I turn to him and smile. "I _could_ probably defeat the others, but is it my place to do so?"

"You are technically a champion." He reminds me, popping a lemon drop into his mouth before leaning back in his plush chair.

"If the 'leader' at different stages are required to do more difficult things, then I will take the burden of winning."

"The burden?" He arches an eyebrow.

"I don't want Cedric's hypothetical death on my conscience if I could have dealt with whatever insurmountable hurdle finishes him off." I reason.

"Just Cedric?"

"He's my friend, I don't know the other two. Although I'd still feel horrible for not doing my best to save Viktor or Allain's daughter."

It shouldn't feel like my responsibility really, there's no reason to, I suppose I can't help but try and protect people

"Would you care for some tea?" Albus offers, breaking me from my thoughts. "I daresay neither of us will be sleeping well tonight."

"A cup of tea sounds wonderful, actually. I'll have Dobby fetch my violin too."

* * *

 **A/N: I tried to capture Harry and Albus' banter here. I think deep down, Harry is a bit of an old man, and old men love to waffle on about things needlessly, whilst touching on some good points too.**


	48. Chapter 48: Witty Chapter Name I

Chapter 48: *Witty chapter name I*

"Good morning, Harry." Albus' voice is the first thing I hear as I slowly wake up, stretching out in a cat-like manner. I crack my eyes open to see that Albus is already sitting at his desk. Today's robes feature hundreds of small Union Jacks, well 'Union Flags' as we are not out at sea. I he had this one custom made for the tournament, the tiny flags are lain upon a pale blue backing material. Part of me wishes that I could also pull off Albus' one of a kind fashion, but I would never want to take the spotlight off of his robes.

I ended up spending the night curled up in front of his fireplace in my animagus form. Before I settled down, Albus explained to me Kakaroff's hearing and eventual pardon, which ties into the newly escaped Barty Crouch's story. I had to hold back my comments about Snape being named. We used the pensieve to watch Albus' memory of the trial, featuring a less moody Moody, who scored a nice hit on Barty as he tried to sneak out. I felt angry as I watched the father-son duo that played a part in my entry into the tournament.

I change back to my less-hairy body and stand up.

"Mornin'." I retrieve the teacup from my side of the desk to warm my hands, taking a sip. I wonder where the house elves get the tea from? Probably not Tesco. Wait… "Did I just proxy-kiss McGongall?"

"I don't know what mean." His innocent, yet telling, smirk is a resounding 'Yes' and he did it on purpose.

"You're an evil man, Albus." I scowl at him. It was a new cup, he had tea with her forty-four days ago and nobody has used it since then, which means this was planned, and he waited all this time to make it even better. "I would tell Sirius, but I dread to think what he'd come up with." I can always blackmail him with something, like the time he ran halfway across the castle naked and ran into Professor Sprout. She was very kind about it, but Sirius looked mortified.

"Did you sleep well?" Albus continues to write with the phoenix feather quill. The Supreme Mugwump's seal is sitting ready beside him, so it's probably something important and boring.

"Decently. I think you should get a rug to put by the fireplace though." I quickly drink the rest of the scalding hot tea. "I should head down the breakfast now, Professor Flitwick doesn't like it when I don't spend the night in the tower."

"He worries because he cares about you." He reminds me. "And Harry?" I turn to him on my way to the door. "Your robe?" He nods to my school robe, still hanging on the back of the chair. "You are to be a figurehead of the school, by choice or not. Try and look tidy?"

"When am I not tidy?" I retrieve my robe from the chair, twirling around to slip my arms into the sleeve holes.

"The odd stains sometimes on your shirts during dinner? Specifically the ones that smoke?" He looks up from his letter, peering over his glasses at me.

"That only happened once, but I get your point." I scratch my chin with a smile, I generally try and keep my appearance fairly tame. "Can't do much about the hair, though." Maybe Snape has the same problem, so he has to grease it down? I'll take the puffy look. "Good luck dealing with Barty's mess. I'll try and think of an efficient way to help." I lean one shoulder against the door frame, bracing the door open

"Are you insinuating the Government to be inefficient?" He jokes. I scoff.

"Goodbye, Albus." The door clicks shut behind me and I drop down into my animagus form once I reach the bottom of the stairs. The cold Scottish mornings are just that – _Cold_.

"Potter!" _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._ Why does Moody always insist on shouting to get my attention? "Filius said you were missing. Figured you'd be up here with Dumbledore. Why are you…?" He gestures to me. I change back.

"It's like wearing a fur coat, but over my entire body." He grunts are turns away. I jog a few steps to catch up with him as he retraces his steps down the corridor. "You should try it."

"And be missing a leg?"

"Maybe you'd be a flamingo?" I suggest, causing him to grunt again. I drop back into my animagus form and he doesn't say anything else whilst we're walking to breakfast, but does glance over his shoulder every now and then, as if he doesn't quite trust the magical eye. If you're actually being hunted, it's only good form to question the working order of your tools, just in case. Maybe his 'constant vigilance' stance is starting to creep into me.

The delicious smell of the Great Hall gradually grows stronger as draw closer, it doesn't all smell particularly edible to a wolf, but it'll do me just fine when I'm back on two legs. Moody slows momentarily before we reach the doorway into the hall, but resumes his normal pace after his eye stops spinning. Thankfully, as a wolf, I don't have to listen to every new conversation that's happened this morning in the hall's threshold, which serves me just fine. It's only the second day of official tournament-related events, and I'm already sick of it.

We make it a fair way in before I change back. I'll still see everything when I walk out, but I've learned to not underestimate how much a full stomach can do for me. I sit down beside Hermione, she'd been watching the approach. "Talk about being a teacher's pet." I joke. She lets out an almost pained laugh at the pun, shaking her head. No appreciation.

"Are you ok, Harry?" She asks worriedly. "I spoke to Luna on the way down, she said that you didn't go back to your common room last night."

"I was with Albus until pretty late, I slept in his office."

"What's happening, Harry? Do you have to take part? Can't Professor Dumbledore do something? I ordered a copy of the rulebook a few days ago out of curiosity, the library didn't have a copy." She slides the book to me. "There's nothing about four champions, only broad statements like 'All the champions', which could potentially cover more than three."

"It's out of Albus' control, really." I run my thumb over the pages, leafing through it quickly. "Bagman probably has a big say in it, but ultimately it looks like the decision falls the Barty Crouch… which won't happen." Now to digest the rules before breakfast ends. I really should get Hermione a nice Christmas present

"Why?" She frowns.

"He can't change the rules at this point actually, so it looks like I'm in this thing for real." I hand her the book back, leaning closer to her. "Crouch put my name in."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes dart up to the head table, but Crouch isn't there.

"Saw him with my own two… feet. I'll explain it all later, at lunch?" Hermione agrees quickly. "Maybe I should skip potions, nobody should have to deal with Snape this early in the morning."

"Have you ever _tried_ getting along? You're exceptionally talented in potions, you could learn a lot if you wanted." Hermione sighs.

"Walking around his classroom during detentions has taught me more about potions, and previous potions professors, than _he_ ever could." I smile. "I _have_ tried being friendly with him once before."

"What happened?"

"I think I must've lost Ravenclaw about 80 points, and I had to chisel burnt-on concoctions from old cauldrons for two hours." I chuckle. "But, speaking of losing points – Did you see that rule about allowing 'study time' for the champions?" I backtrack to the rulebook. They haven't actually been edited since the previous Tri-Wizard Tournament, but Albus has said that the tasks are designed to be less dangerous, and more precautions are in place. I suspect a lot of rule governing the entry aspects are difficult to do anything about due to the goblet itself. It's old enough that the creators, and possibly any documentation about it's creation, are long gone. A, nearing ancient, artifact with incredible magical power is a tad beyond the paygrade of the office that tinkers with such things. It knows if we've been naughty or nice, watches us while we're sleeping, then fucking eviscerates our souls if we don't turn up and compete. We should have the goblet teach us potions.

"Yes. You can take additional time for private research and study in preparation for the tasks." She scans the contents page of the book, searching again for the passage.

"Ravenclaw might actually stand a chance of not being last this year if I stop turning up to potions." I reason, scratching my chin thoughtfully. "I don't want to appear inconsistent, so I should stop turning up to all of them, that would give me plenty of 'study time'."

"Harry, I will personally find a way to break into your room and drag you out of your bed, clothed or not, and _make_ you attend. Just because another obstacle has been thrown at you, doesn't mean you can sulk all day." She says pointedly. "We will figure this out, Harry." She pats my arm.

"I do not _sulk_." I say, sulkily.

"And remember you promised Ginny and I to dancing lessons." She reminds me. Hopefully it won't prove to be the first, and thus far _only_ , skill I can't absorb through psychometry. I'm required to attend the ball, as are the other champions. We probably die if we don't. My life, quite literally, depends on finding a date to a ball. Why would anyone give a giant _cup_ power of death?

"If I manage top avoid Snape's company tonight, we can make a start? This wouldn't happen to be a plan so you can dance with Ginny, is it?"

"You can wipe that smirk off your face, or I'll do it for you." There isn't any real heat in the words, so I'm probably safe.

"How are things going with her?" I tilt my head towards the redhead down the table. "And what does she think about my name being drawn?" Despite Albus' words last night, it's clear that not everybody believes me to be innocent.

"Slowly." Hermione sighs. Poor girl. Hopefully one day she can look back and feel silly about it, or even better – recall it fondly _with_ Ginny, but those chances are slim. "She was more interested in dancing than verbally crucifying you." I wonder if there's actually a spell to crucify a person? A quick conjuration of a cross, some high velocity nails.

"Here's the plan." I lean closer to my wild-haired compadré. "I use a confundus charm on Ginny so she think that it's a clever idea to make some love potion laced chocolates as a gift, she gives them to somebody that I will also confund- no, scratch that- She can give them to _me_ , to minimise the spellwork and chances of failure, and then I share them with you before a scheduled dancing lesson. Next, I will make up some excuse to leave in a hurry, leaving the two of you to your own devices, giving you the perfect excuse to make your move. Months later, we, or maybe just me, will reveal to her that it was my doing, to which she will thank me, and then promptly attempt to hex me whilst you calm her down. There's only a couple of things that could go wrong."

"Only a _couple_?" She says incredulously.

"Well, every single part could go wrong really." I admit.

"Ignoring just how ridiculous, and convoluted, the idea is, it's completely immoral!" She hisses. "You can't just go around confounding people!"

"All's well that ends well?" I offer. "Gah!" She stamped on my foot!

"If I even suspect you've done anything to her, I'll stamp on something else _much_ harder." She glares at me, her cheeks are now flushed.

"You wasn't this angry before I obliviated you about the last plan." I grumble.

"Harry!"

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Ouch!"

* * *

 **A/N: Distract your worrywart friend through invited violence, trust me!**

 **Enjoy!**


	49. Chapter 49: Captured

**A/N: Been a while, eh?**

" **Safe" chapters are getting us nowhere, I have plans, but it's difficult to execute them all. In the Azkaban chapter, I teased about the wider universe – I hope to get started on more of this soon, but I don't want to rush it too much in-story.**

* * *

Chapter 49: Captured

A week after being chosen by the Goblet of Fire, Albus is waiting just inside the entrance of Hogwarts as I come back from my morning run. I look far less immaculate wearing a vest and tracksuit bottoms than he does in his silvery-grey robes.

"G'morning." I greet him, blowing hot air onto my hands in an attempt to defrost them. Bloody dementors. As if winter wasn't cold enough already.

"I had forgotten about your morning routine." He says as I fall into step beside him. "I encountered Miss Tonks on my way to the Ravenclaw Tower."

"Yeah, I bumped into her on my way down." Definitely didn't go out of my way to find her after she'd sneaked out of my room twenty minutes earlier, and we also _didn't_ inspect the inside of a broom cupboard for intruders.

"Purely coincidental, I'm sure." He manages to not sound too sarcastic.

"So, Do you have a room ready? I think I need a drink before we start."

"I'm afraid we will not be sparring today." He replies, glancing over his shoulder. "The cup is due to be returned to storage in an hour, Rufus and I believe it may be beneficial to have you inspect the cup yourself, either for a way to free yourself, or clear evidence of the tamperer's identity. Ah, _Bonjour._ " He smiles at a pair of French Aurors we pass. Since the decision was made after the attack on the Quidditch World Cup, Fudge has managed to spin the French security here as international cooperation, rather than making him look like more of a fool. Moody grumbled about the extra people, telling me that it's just more faces to keep an eye on. I really wish it was a joke about his magical eye, but I can never be sure with him. In saying that, he's made me needlessly paranoid.

"We know it was him, so I still think you should just grab him. People love a scandal. 'High ranking Ministry employee incarcerated for treason'. It'll be the headline for a week." I recite the faux-headline.

"Would you condemn a man for caring for his son?"

"No, but in this context, he did use the imperius on him for years, and hoodwinked the Azkaban guards. Both boast bulky sentences back in the prison. There's also Barty's vast list of crimes too, maybe they can share a cell?" I rub my forehead and sigh. "Albus, I need you to promise me something. If I ever name my son 'Harry Junior' I need you to come and kill me."

"Perhaps something a little less severe, should the situation arise." Albus leads our party of two to an old classroom, currently sporting two English Aurors at the door. The woman on the right looks familiar. "I believe Rufus is expecting us?" I know that Scrimgeour is already inside, along with Cornelius Fudge, and Allain Delacour with a handful of French Aurors. Well, they're inside unless they've fled out a window.

"Yes, Professor." The scrawny looking Auror says. I don't think I ever call Albus 'Professor' unless I'm poking fun at him. The Auror taps the lock with his wand and I watch the locking charm peel back away from the door.

"Oh, you've got two hands now." I blurt out. That's where I know her from! The other Auror is the one whose hand I had to cut off when we were hunting Fenrir Greyback. "Sorry about that." Her 'serious Auror' mask cracks fir a second as she smiles.

"Probably saved my job."

"Harry." Albus grabs my attention again, tilting his head to the room. Right. Pretending to be important.

"Ah, Harry, M'boy!" Fudge all but snatches my hand to shake it.

"Minister, So nice to see you bright and early in the morning." I force on a smile. I'd much prefer to have had a shower first. I feel incredibly uncomfortable being dressed in my running clothes whilst in the same room as two Ministers of Magic. "And Allain, it's good to see you again." My greeting is a bit warmer, as he's not done anything to annoy me. Yet. Scrimgeour just looks like he's sulking. "Is Mo- _Professor_ Moody not going to be here?" I ask the room. He's usually around when something pertaining the school's security is involved. It's actually his job to overlook it for the tournament. The door opens again.

"Alastor has other duties to attend to." Barty Crouch. Senior. Urgh, I hate the man even more for having a stupid name. I catch Scrimgeour's eye as Allain starts to talk and he nods slightly. He knows to be on the lookout.

"I did not theenk we would 'ave the pleasure of your company 'ere." Clearly some distaste between the two men, judging by the glare. I would guess it's to do with the World Cup being attacked.

"We should see if Mister Potter can discern anything from the cup." Scrimgeour speaks up for the first time, trying to defuse the tension. Aurors from both countries look ready to stop curses flying. The Goblet looks a lot less impressive without the fire.

"Sure." I nod, taking a step towards the carved wooden relic. "Hopefully it doesn't kill me for trying to escape the tournament." I joke. It falls flat as there is probably a fairly high chance of me really dying. I close one eye and stretch my hand out, laying it on the side.

Carved in 1217, a full seventy-seven years before it's use in the very first Tri-Wizard Tournament, by Richard Cross and later enchanted by the same man to lock wizard-slaves into servitude, or perhaps entertainment in a sort of gladiatorial arena. We're incredibly lucky we don't put blood into this thing as an entry requirement, or we'd be severely screwed. After 1294, when it was first used at Hogwarts for the tournament, it was brought out of storage once every five years to hold another one at the next school. In 1312, the enchantments on the cup were altered slightly to make it more competition friendly, and then they were confounded on October 31st 1994 by Barty Crouch Sr. The cup is pure evil, a sort of watered down slavery machine.

"Bloody hell." I wipe my hand on my leg and sigh. "No, I can't get out of it's bind-" I look over at Barty, standing by the door. The Aurors outside haven't closed it, instread choosing to watch the proceedings inside. Moody would have their heads. "-but I did notice a confundus on the-" Barty darts out of the door.

" _Imperio!"_ He fires the unforgivable backwards. It's heading straight for me, he was quite a proficient duellist in his time, easily able to aim that. The goal is to have me delay the others. In a quick twist of my hand, I fire a dart from my wand at Barty as he runs. At about eight inches long, the silver bolt hits Barty in the base of the spine just as the curse hits me in the chest. I feel a haze over my vision, but it quickly vanishes as a sharp pain strikes at my forehead. I blink rapidly and see the door-guard Aurors already tying Barty up in chains.

"Harry?" I turn and see Albus, one hand on my shoulder. His other hand sports his wand, the ancient aspen that once brought Gellert Grindelwald to his knees whilst wielding the Elder Wand.

"I'm OK." I tell him, popping my wand back into the holster. Allain and Fudge seem to be in a heated argument, barely keeping their voices down in the corner of the room.

"Mister Potter." Scrimgeour. God, my head hurts. "By law, we are required to place you under Imperius Protocols for twenty-four hours. I'm sure you can appreciate the danger you would pose, potentially to other students, if you were under it's effects." He has his wand out too, _very_ ready to react if I were to attack right now. "You will need to relinquish your wand and allow us to place magic-inhibiting handcuffs on you." It's a genius idea, really. And I can't worm my way out of it because they all saw me get hit by it. Even Albus has his wand out.

"Moody will never let me hear the end of this." I grumble, reaching up to undo the straps on my wand holster.

"Alastor was the one that designed the system. During the war we wanted to make sure we had no more... incidents." Scrimgeour explains. More? Probably best not to ask exactly what happened.

"Can I leave this with Albus?" I ask him. The disillusionment charm cuts off on the wand holster, revealing it's normal white-scaled appearance. Scrimgeour nods and Albus accepts it. He curiously turns the piece in his hands and smiles when he spots Tonks' name.

"Parker, the cuffs." Scrimgeour beckons one of the Aurors over.

"Rufus, is this really necessary?" Fudge nervously turns his hat in in his hands, frowning.

"I feel fine, but I don't want to suddenly snap and do anything." I say to him. I hold my hands up and the Auror, Parker, produces a large set of dark grey shackles from within his robes. He closes the shackles around my wrists and affixes a chain to them. The rune structure engraved into the metal is one of the most impressive feats of magical engineering I've ever lain my eyes upon. They create a magical void to the desired size, in this application to cover my hands, and then creates a bubble around the void to stop the prisoner pushing the void onto anything important. "Amazing." I mutter, mostly to myself, as the bubble sprouts into existence around my hands. I've read about these, but never thought I'd ever see any. The idea came from Japan, a small, mostly isolated group living on Kyushu believed that if they built their houses with hollow walls, and made the hollow void of magic, then undesirable spirits would be unable to harm them. The book I read, or touched, says that it worked so well that the British Ministry decided to adapt the magic into these inhibitor cuffs.

"Minister Delacour has graciously volunteered his Aurors to escort Mister Potter to the Ministry." Fudge says, a little unhappily.

"But Minister-" Scrimgeour starts.

"Please take Barty." Fudge orders.

"Yes, Minister." With as nudge, Scrimgeour pushes me out of the room towards the French Aurors. Albus exchanges a few words with Fudge before electing to walk along beside me.

"Are you well, Harry?" He asks, looking deeply concerned.

"Having the time of my life, really." I reply dryly. "I've now been hit by all three unforgivable curses at some point in my life, and _I'm_ the one in handcuffs." I hold up my magical bubble. It's a semi-clear yellowish colour, kind of rubbery. I'm not sure why there's a chain, as nobody is holding onto it. Nobody thought to remove my mithril ring, but I can't actually channel any magic through it because of the void, so it's a non-issue to them. "At least there's evidence that Barty has broken laws. And reason to further question him now."

We march on in silence through the school. Thankfully, there aren't any other students around yet. We do pass Sir Nicolas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor house ghost, who looks on curiously as we exit the castle.

I hope that the Ministry can get a location on Barty Jr from Barty Sr. I suspect he's had something to do with the recent attacks from the Crows. I suspect the Crouchs to be quite well off, which can go a long way with low-paid mercenaries. Hopefully he will give up now, after this many failed attempts, but it's unlikely. I would guess that he intends to try harder, he and Pettigrew. If anybody knows where Riddle's disembodied soul lurks these days, it's those two.

We pass through the gates outside Hogwarts and one of my escorting Aurors stops me with a hand on my shoulder. A group of slightly nervous looking French Aurors, clad in their blue coats with white trims, pull aside another of my escorts and listen to the frantic explanation. There are about ten of them in total and one holds an empty glass bottle, which is a portkey.

"We will take Mister Potter to the Ministry now." One of the Aurors tells Albus. English accent?

"Of course. May I accompany you to the edge of the wards?" Albus asks in a way that isn't really asking. A small stare-down ensues as a couple more Aurors move to stand behind me. Personally, I think this is overkill for security. I'm already in the shackles, although I could try and whack them with the chain I suppose. Like many wizards, I am greatly handicapped without a wand or, at the very least, my hands. This big rubbery ball also stops me from being able to pick up any other weapon too.

"Very well. The sooner we can start the timer, the sooner it's over." The Auror gives Albus a smile that wouldn't look out of place on the face of Lucius Malfoy. I want to tell them that I'm not under the imperius, but that's exactly what somebody that _is_ under the imperius would say to avoid suspicion.

Our group continues to march on across the grass, I'm now being prodded along at wand point. I suppose a captive could dispparate, but would that cut off the hands? I'm inclined to say yes, but it's never been attempted with this particular pair of cuffs. Regardless of the outcome, I can't even apparate. I must bump that up on my to-do list, maybe with Sirius' help, or a good book. I'm sure there's something hidden away in the restricted section that can assist me.

An angry hiss brings us to a halt. Crookshanks is standing in front of the leading Auror, between the ward-line and us. The very angry ginger cat is giving an _incredibly_ convincing glare, one that Hermione would be proud of. Then, far in the distance behind us, comes the call of "Croooooooows!" from Moody.

I flatten myself on the grass as the spells start firing. Of _course_ they aren't Aurors. Stupid Harry! Stupid! Stupid! I roll on the grass to avoid a dark orange slicing curse heading my way. I push myself onto my feet and narrowly avoid something hitting me due to Crookshanks hanging off the wand arm of the newly-identified Black Crow. He throws the cat to the floor and _kicks_ him. I clear the two-step distance and awkwardly swing my chain, catching the man in the cheek, sends him to the ground. I bring my foot up and stamp down on his head, bringing back a brief flashback from when I killed Quirrel by stamping on his head, but without the death part.

The next thing I know, I've been hit by something and I sail through the air, not in the direction I'd like to go, and across the ward designed to stop portkey travel. Another fake Auror is waiting on the ground with the portkey-bottle in his hand, firing a stupefy at me.

I've just been successfully kidnapped.

* * *

A dungeon, judging by the fact I'm not the first person to wake up on this floor. Or the first to have been kicked, or whipped, or stabbed. Well, more a cut than a stab. A knife wound on my left upper-arm. My head hurts, along with just about every other part of my body, probably from where I've been kicked. If I ever meet Morris Hunt, thirty-seven years old, ex-Death Eater, current Crow, I'll be sure to kick him in the head too.

I'm probably in Wales, unless the dungeon floorstones were commissioned and cut by Welsh muggles in 1737 and then moved, which is unlikely. Enchanted to act better as a prison cell, not that I can even attempt to blast, or transfigure, anything whilst wearing these shackles. I open my eyes slowly, looking down at my anti-magic ball. I can't call the Elder Wand to me, and Albus, hopefully, still has my wand with him. Fat lot of good either would do me currently, though.

The room is about two metres squared in which I lay curled up in the middle of. I shuffle over to the corner of the barely lit room and sit up, my body groaning miserably in protest. The 'leader' Crow, the fake-Auror that was leading me along, Graham Hedges, came in and collected a vial of my blood just over twenty minutes ago. I have been here for about five and a half hours now.

My blood? Was that the goal? Maybe to ransom me off, as they'd have killed me already if that were the plan, but my blood? There are a lot of horrific things they can do to me with my blood, but also a lot that can go wrong in doing so, both to myself _and_ the person attempting it. I can only hope they've blown themselves up already. If Barty or Peter are pulling the strings here, then it means Voldemort is behind this.

Fuck.

I rub the magic-void against my forehead, attempting to stave off the headache. I let out a frustrated sigh as I contemplate the situation. Maybe if I hadn't whapped that guy that kicked Crookshanks, I could've ducked towards Albus, but as far as my instant-trigger anger is concerned, kicked him is like kicking Hermione. If I'd had a wand, that guy would've been in for a world more hurt than being hit in the head, but it doesn't change the fact I'm now locked in here. The cell door, a heavy piece of wood, has a locking charm on it, most likely a deadbolt on the other side too.

Well, This is shit.

I inspect my arm as best I can in the low light that leaks through the barred window gap at the top of the door. It's scabbed up a bit, but there is still blood trickling out from where it tore as I sat up. The scab had been attached to the chain as well, the dried blood is still stuck to the links. I use my legs to shimmy myself up the wall into a standing position, trying not to rattle the two feet of chain as much as possible, just in case somebody is nearby and listening. My legs ache, only partially due to the run I'd been on before my capture, mostly because I've been beaten, and I'd guess a less-than-kind drag to this cell is what caused the scrapes and torn skin on my feet and ankles. A more heavy kick seems to have cracked a rib low down on my right-hand side, or maybe something more severe. Despite the increased durability I gain from Scar, I will still bruise. At some point shortly after I was portkeyed, somebody tried to pry my glasses from my face, but the sticking charm was performed this morning by the Elder Wand, so instead I have painful sections of skin just above my ears. They _did_ manage to crack the right lens, and give me, what I'm sure will turn into, a black eye.

No point in moping about it, standing here feeling sorry for myself isn't productive. I need to escape, then find transport back to England, preferably London. Hogwarts might still have undercover Crows laced with all sorts of charms to avoid suspicion. Oh, getting these shackles off is also fairly high priority.

First step – Get through the door.

I square up against the hefty door and press my foot against it, hoping to discern something useful. It's Oak with steel trims. New, a mere thirteen months old, which is when the Black Crows seem to have started using the room. A newly acquired building for their illicit dealings, perhaps? It's reinforced, so it can't be kicked down with any amount of force that isn't a dragon, and I certainly don't have one of those in here. I'll have to Macgyver my way out of here.

Ten minutes later, I find that I can't apparate out, I can't turn myself into a portkey, and I can't call any house elves.

I guess I'll have to fight my way out.

After another ten minutes of hard thinking, and almost giving into my despair, I devise my plan.

I start by rubbing my arm against the coarse stone wall to reopen the cut. Bringing my void-bubble above my head, I dangle the chain to my left and do my best to get it between the wall and my cut. Wizards can use their blood as a conduit for magic, but generally it isn't a good idea as blood is inside me, or touching my arm in this case, but separated and at a safe distance, it will do the trick. With my newly painted chain in front of me, I manoeuvre the chain so it's pressing flush against the centre of the door. Unfortunately for me, it isn't the best magical focus I've ever encountered, so I can't do any complex spells, but I _can_ ignite the chain and, in turn, the door. There isn't any protections against fire on the door. With a great deal of effort, I feel out for the blood and the chain bursts into flames as I swing the chain, I have to burn the door, but also not burn my wrists. The room starts to heat up to an uncomfortable temperature before the door finally catches on. I snuff my chain out and get as close to the ground as possible as the smoke starts.

Now I'm in a tiny room, and the only exit is currently on fire. This probably violates a lot of fire safety codes in the muggle world, but wizards don't really have plans for what to do other than 'Put the fire out with magic'. Or if it's fiendfyre, then 'Curl up and die' is probably acceptable too.

A hole starts to appear in the middle of the door, rapidly growing as the metal starts to glow too. I take a deep breath as the heat continues to bite at my skin. I don't want to inhale the smoke. Smoke inhalation is bad.

In, perhaps, the most incredible feat of acrobatics I've performed in my life, I dive through the hole. My chain, thankfully, doesn't get snagged. I land in a stone corridor, there are other cells too, all open. It's strange to watch my limp body fall backwards as I run up a flight of stairs to a much more respectable wooden door, chain jangling merrily all the way, and balance on one foot to twist the door knob. Door knobs are stupid. A lever-like handle is way better, as they can be operated my elbows too, what if you're carrying something with two hands? Or if you've got a sphere covering your hands and find yourself unable to operate a door knob easily? I take a moment to get a grip on just how scared I am right now. It shows just how stressed I am that I can take the time to mentally berate interior decorators for choosing door knobs.

The door opens to an interior corridor, as there are no windows. There is a plush, blue rug running the length of the space, perhaps ten metres or so, and a highly polished dark wooden panelling running along the walls at waist height. Two elaborate metal candle chandeliers hang from the ceiling to light the space, completing the authentic Victorian look. It's the kind of corridor I'd expect to see in the Malfoy's home, maybe with more skeletons there.

I creep along as quietly as I can towards the door at the other end of the hallway, unremarkable like it's twin I've just passed through, also unlocked. Haven't they ever heard of multiple layered security? Lock every door between the prisoner and the exit, with different means of locking, just to be sure. I lift up a foot to manipulate the door knob, only for it to start opening by itself. A wand peaks through the crack first, I launch all my weight on the door as I see a dark black tattoo on his wrist peaking out from under the shirt. The hand drops the wand.

"Fuck!" The voice cries out after a satisfying crunch, the wrist is broken. The door flings open suddenly and a furious looking Morris Hunt glares at me. Wild ginger hair and a thick beard. His eyes flick down to the fallen wand, before twitching back to me. He bursts into action, all but leaping to the floor. My foot reaches the wand first, flicking it backwards down the hallway before he can reach it. Repeating my action from before I was taken, I twirl my wrists to make the chain follow suit, swinging it over my head and bringing the makeshift metal whip down onto his back before he can stand up. "Argh!" He is usually the one to drag their prisoners to the cells, and seems to take great pleasure in the torturing side of "interrogation". I hit him with the chain again, this time it strikes the back of his head.

He doesn't get up.

I backtrace to where the wand ended up and get down on all fours to pick it up between my teeth, then manoeuvre it into the crook of my elbow to carry it more easily. Dragon heartstring. Pine. Nine inches and a quarter. One of Ollivander's. 1957, September 19th. He was sorted into Slytherin. An entitled prick. A bully. A Death Eater.

I shake my head, suppressing my focus on the wand for now. I don't want to be reliving everything he's ever done while I'm escaping this place. I have a handy path that I can follow, that path being the route I was dragged here using. I pass through the door, leaving Morris to his head wound. There isn't much I can do without magic, so hitting him with the chain was really my only option, other than trying to talk my way out of it. Really, if they hadn't put these shackles on me, he would be a lot less hurt – Or at least not at risk of dying from brain damage.

This door leads to a grand staircase which descends into an opulent entrance hall. The sweeping banisters, the needlessly elaborate chandelier, and the gaudy marble statues attempt to create an illusion of arrogant innocence, as if horrific things don't happen in this building. My own kidnapping, and subsequent assault, for example. Everything the Black Crows have used the spaces for, and even what the 'guests' have been forced into. Perhaps we are all still just unsophisticated animals, scrambling around in the dirt, beating each other's heads in with rocks, or chains. Maybe it's the suppression of free will. In any case, this unsophisticated animal is leaving this particular patch of dirt via the wide stairs and grand door.

But the door is magically locked. I groan angrily, frustrated at the inanimate object for having the gall to remain locked. I could attempt to destroy the door if I was capable of using the stolen wand with my elbow, but-

"Give up, Potter." A voice snarls from behind me. It's Graham Hedges, the one that took my blood. Turning round, I see that he has the vial strapped to his belt.

Five bad guys in a semi circle, all with wands trained on me. I can't run past them, even if they couldn't use magic. They have me out numbered and each could easily overpower me physically due to my wounds. Maybe I could get lucky and hit one with the chain before I get cursed, but only if they get close.

Despite the odds, they still look … nervous? More twitchy, perhaps.

"I'm impressed that you escaped the cell at all, and then what you did to Hunt? Not what I expected of you, boy." He sneers. Graham Hedges. If I get out of here, I will kill you. He twitches his wand, as I was expecting, and I jerk my hands to the left ever so slightly to catch the spell on my bubble, taking care not to move too much so I don't drop the wand. If I can somehow break out of the shackles, I'd prefer to have an extra wand with me. "The door's locked, you've nowhere to run." He, quite correctly, growls tauntingly. He makes a show of flicking his wand, audibly having the mechanical lock in the door _click._

A Yale cylinder lock. Why is one in this door? It doesn't make sense. I know that lock, the Dursley's have had the same one on their door for the entire time they have lived at Privet Drive. I remember the sound of it locking very well, when they'd leave me locked inside whilst they went out. It was actually nice of them to do so, to leave me in peace for a while.

On one such occasion, I knew that they wouldn't be back for hours, so I decided to read some of Dudley's comics. He tended to only ever look at the pictures, then throw them onto the floor his ever growing fire hazard of a bedroom. A single one of those comics comes to mind, one that is far too mature for a small child (even a fat one) to own. I always thought it was unrealistic, that the villains would never actually monologue their evil plan, would never really allow the protagonists time to stall, or get off a witty line.

But the bad guys do, in fact, boast.

So the good guys get to do it too? I'm not sure if I'll be such a good person after what I'm about to do.

The blood will be my weapon, the vial is sitting right on his belt, a perfect place for an unexpected detonation. I start honing my focus on the blood, a vague splotch in front of me somewhere. Ready to channel the magic.

That comic? Watchmen. Issue six.

"None of you seem to understand." I meet Graham's eyes. " _I'm_ not locked up in here with _you. You're_ locked up in here with _me_." He moves to cast a spell, but I release the magic before he can.

The blood explodes.

Functionally, it works like a curse named " _Blood Boil_ ". Which, aptly, boils blood. Gellert managed to hit Albus in the arm during their final duel. Albus still can't grow hair on his left arm, even after all this time. Dark magic tends to do that.

This was a lot less refined, less controlled, and less aimed.

It made the blood in the vial explode, sure, but also all the blood in the Black Crows too. More blood equates to more _bang_.

Something I'm keenly aware of as I groggily wake up, face down in the mud.

"Urrrgh." I moan. Everything hurts. My eyelashes are pressed against my glasses, so even they hurt. I worry, for a moment, that I've had my stomach blow out, but feeling returns to my arms and I'm somewhere mollified that it's just the shackles' bubble beneath me. I feel like I've been crushed. I roll onto my back with Herculean effort, letting out another cry from my dry throat. The building is on fire. I seem to have been thrown outside during the explosion. If any of my assailants survived the initial explosion, the fire will surely take them. Eight minutes since the explosion.

* * *

 **A/N: I apologise for the hiatus, hopefully I can get back into the swing of things.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

 **Enjoy.**


	50. Chapter 50: The Great Escape

Chapter 50: The Great Escape

"Potter, Potter!" A frantic voice. A murky pink aura. "Harry, wake up!" A rough shake.

Vision still swimming, the Elder Wand appears in my hand before I can consciously think about it. The person is thrown ten feet away in an instant and a cocoon of stone transfigures out of the mud and thickly encases itself around me, in a short moment as I am hurled to my feet, only allowing for a loud popping sound through before sealing itself. Like the air being pulled in too fast. The person apparated shortly after my reactive attack.

I lean against the inside of my shell, panting heavily to try and soothe my aching head with oxygen. Raising my hand quickly, I rub the back of my wand hand against my forehead in a poor attempt to stave off the sharp, _gnawing_ , pain just above my eyes. An intrusive, oppressive force trying to hammer it's way into my skull against my will, relentlessly driving over and over against me.

Momentarily safe within my temporary barrier from the world, I realise that the shackles are gone and I'm free to use the full extent of my magic. I clutch the Death Stick tightly and crouch in what little space I've created, then retrieve the anti-magic cuffs. I screw my eyes tightly shut and try to get my panicked breathing under control.

The silence is broken by dull thuds, rhythmically pounding against the jagged rock. My eyes swivel painfully as each blast comes as a flash of colour upon closed eyes. Spells, blasting hexes mainly, impacting the rapidly declining shield, tearing it away piece by piece. Muffled voices start to reach through as the ablative construct continues to be blasted apart. The agonising mental pressure eases up as a cold chill runs down my spine, adrenaline rushes into my veins, giving me clear control once more. The pounding in my ears grows louder and louder with the accompanying attacks.

I take a deep breath, flicking my wand and pulling the dirt up from beneath me, allowing me to drop into the floor as I continue the impromptu digging, leaving a visibly untouched roof of dirt above me. A quick transfiguration leaves a stone slab to support the earth above me, so it doesn't fall into tunnel I start to create, essentially hoovering the dirt into the point of the wand and destroying it. I move away from my prison, and towards the nearest point where I can make out the ward line, in the fastest jog I can manage with the injuries I sustained in my somewhat brief, if brutal, capture.

I ascertain from a quick glance over my shoulder that there are at least four wizards above the ground, beyond that it's very unclear without real eyes upon them. I curve my little tunnel towards the surface after passing below the alarm wards. The scheme isn't comprehensive enough to physically block my from leaving, but are more than capable of hiding the building from outside view and other locating methods. I lay an array of spells over my person to hide from sight and magical scans as best as I possibly can without my invisibility cloak with me. I should be glad I left it with Tonks, really. I'd hate to have it with me, only for it to be stolen when I was captured.

The afternoon sun splashes onto my face after I break the surface again, flicking my wand to reform the hole after I'm clear. I take off jogging once more, casting the most paltry healing spells to seal the leaking cuts, at the very least. The last thing I want to happen here is- BANG.

"He's over there!" A voice shouts. "Confringo! Don't let him escape!" The bursting sounds of apparition signal the arrival of the others, too. Trees begin to explode around me as the pursuit starts. I hastily push the charm I used to dull the pain I suffered from the cruciatus curse in order to make running easier. I jump over a fallen tree and pirouette in the air, swishing my wand horizontally and landing – somewhat awkwardly – on the floor again, taking a moment to rebalance and continue running. The trees behind me burst open, thick, thorny, twines of wood tangle up between the points, creating a thick enough barrier to block my pursuers line of sight, preventing them from performing a safe apparation for a few seconds, at least. I am definitely going to put learning to apparate at the top of my list after this, all it would take it to bust the wards to escape.

A hex hits me plain in the back, roughly smashing me into a tree I'd been ready to dodge past. I almost had time to swear before the wind was knocked out of my lungs.

" _Ascendio."_ The spell throws me into the air, sending me spinning wildly upwards. I see a car drive down the road not far from here, which springs a plan to mind. I few quick jabbing motions towards the woodland below causes great fiery explosions below. I slow my descent and widely spin my wand around me to conduct the fire, spreading it as much as possible. I'll leave these bastards to deal with it.

Through the, now cracked, lenses of my glasses, I manage to make it to the roadside unmolested, which won't last for long. I fire of an accio to bring Morris' wand to me, using the motion to thrust my wand out over the open road.

 **HONK HONK**

A cacophonous tooting accompanies the Knight Bus, stretching into the road in front of me. I take a step up onto the bus the second it stops before me, earning a squawk from the conductor, Stanley Simon Shunpike.

"Drive, right now, or we're all dead." I croak out.

"Uh, where we goin'?"

"What part of-" A window is blown in, scattering glass inside the bus. Stanley ducks down, covering his head with his arms the moment it happens. I blindly shoot some nasty explosive curses towards the trees and draw up a shield to protect the bus. The satisfying clicks of the handbrake being pulled rings out from behind me and the bus lurches sideways, I grab onto the side of the doorway to maintain my balance and hold the shield up. A curse flies out from the open sky and hits the top of the bus, not covered by the shield. I drop it and lean out of the moving bus. " _Expecto Patronum_! Albus. Ministry. ASAP." Whatever charms propel the Knight Bus finally kick in at full force as the shield vanishes and my patronus, looking as dark as it did the day we ventured into Azkaban, starts it's search for Albus. The broomstick rider is nowhere to be seen.

I slide down the interior wall beside the driver and wrap my arms around my legs, hugging them to my chest. I rest my forehead on the tops of my knees and take a moment to collect myself after another brush with mortality. Near enough every part of my body still aches, or is injured in some way. The immediate fear is gently poking itself at me, rather than having a constricting effect on my heart. With the Elder Wand _very_ tightly gripped in my fist, the sense of security that I associate with my magic is a comforting feeling after having been cut off. I tilt my head up slightly to glare at the shackles, which have now slid down the far end of the bus.

"Wireless said you gotcha self kidnapped." Stanley, who prefers Stan, says, now on his feet, doing his best to pretend he didn't cower at the first sight of trouble. "From righ' outa 'Ogwarts."

Ever since the leaving the Dursley's house, I was shown freedom in magic. Not just in the hidden world, but in the introduction to the usage of magic. No longer downtrodden or mistreated, the place I was truly able to excel, and then I am handcuffed for being the victim of dark magic and _cut off_ from my freedom. It's an inhumane thing, to part a wizard from their magic. It's almost laughable how differently you can be treated between moments, sometimes a child, sometimes like an adult. Changing what they can and can't do with laws for when it suits them. Pulling an innocent soul from a person in Azkaban, or depriving a person of everything that defines them.

It's more than just a tool for me. Magic symbolises my independence.

* * *

Sneaking into a public toilet in broad daylight and flushing myself isn't something that I've ever had to do before. A reapplication of my disillusionment charm, as a wide cast spell destroyed my last in the escape, makes the sneaking part much easier. The fireplace in the Ministry atrium spits me out and strips me of all protective and concealment charms, only not throwing me into a cell for my subterfuge because I jinxed the toilet to let me pass easily. The manacles clatter onto the dark green tiles as I collapse down onto my hands and knees, the air knocked out of me from the uncomfortable forced entry through the floo. Urgh. I haven't even repaired my glasses yet.

"WANDS DOWN." A shouted, but calm, voice booms across the entire chamber. Albus-Bloody-Dumbledore. I struggle to my feet, brushing off the soot, can't look scruffy, can I?

"Get the fuck out of my- Harry!" Sirius shoves past the Aurors and hugs me, ignoring the wands pointing at me. He pulls back, looking worried, possibly from my not returning the hug. I think my left arm is broken in quite a few places after being smashed into a tree, very hard. "Bloody hell, Harry. You looking like bloodied hell barely warmed over."

"Padfoot, I was gone for hours, that's the best you've come up with?" He returns my smile, far more enthusiastically than I can muster, and I use my good arm to hug him as best I can, the pain soothing charm already waning.

"I had other things on my mind." His toothy grin fades quickly. "What happened? I couldn't get much out of anyone." He frowns deeply. "Dumbledore said they were doing everything they could but… well, I guess you got yourself out?" It draws my attention back to the barely healed cuts. There was the person that removed the shackles. A spell, so no contact, and they only touched my skin when they shook me awake, because of the vest I wear when I run in the mornings. Who was there? The pinky-purple aura, it seems to familiar, but I can't quite place it.

"I had to… make some decisions I'm not proud of in order to return." My jaw clenches. The conquered wand of Morris Hunt, shrunken and sitting heavily in my pocket, reminds me all too clearly of the lengths I can go to when cornered. "I had to…" I swallow dryly. "They were going to kill me, Sirius. After they had my blood...I-I had to." Tears break free, crawling down my cheeks, the salt burns my busted lip. Sirius doesn't say anything as he wraps his arms around me again.

* * *

I have my hands resting on the cold stone window sill at the back of Albus' office as I lean heavily, looking out over the castle grounds. After angrily telling the Ministry that they had caused enough damage for the day, Albus escorted me back to Hogwarts with Sirius so Madam Pomfrey could work her magic. I had to assure Sirius that he needn't stay, and that I would be fine here.

"I won't stop until I destroy them, Albus." I glare vehemently into the darkness. "I've seen the creation of those wards they hide behind, practically felt them cast as if they were my own. I can dismantle them easily once I find where they are."

"And if you become pressed for time when, or _if_ , you locate the building?" He asks from beside me, where he sits on the stonework.

"I will destroy the wards forcefully." The Elder Wand coalesces in my hand. I focus on Bellatrix Cornwald's mastery of the wand. The murders by her hand, the wards used to hide the Black Crows from the law for all these years. I must have watched her do this a hundred times in the hours I was talking to the Aurors in the Ministry.

"And this 'Belladonna'? She would make her wards so easily felled?"

"The Elder Wand, and a lot of spite." The wand disappears again. "We both know what can be accomplished with those two." Albus lets out a hum.

"I believe you capable." He slowly stands up, laying a hand on my shoulder. "When today's events are less fresh, will you talk with me?" I nod jerkily.

"I'm not sure if I did the right thing."

"What matters is that we _try_ to." He pats my shoulder.

"For the greater good?" I look up and meet his aged eyes. He nods a little.

"For the greater good."

* * *

 **A/N: Once again, I apologise for taking forever to write this. I had a lot of fun doing so, and I, like you, can only hope the next one isn't too far away.**

 **Enjoy.**


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